Final crusade for the Horsemen of the Apocalypse
by DisclosedBarrel
Summary: Sequel to Expurgation. The Institute invades the Divide. Knowing full well of the carnage within, Ulysses calls for his only friend in the N.C.R. General Wesker shares his outrage, and both set out to find out the Institute's plan. Drastic alterations of his body are needed for Zaac to help him deal with something he was terrified to hear: Legate Lanius lives...
1. Things change

Over the horizon was the sun. It settled, slowly hidden away by the grey clouds of the early morn. Hoover Dam stood proudly between the former states of Arizona and Nevada once again. The blood, sweat and tears of the people under its care make life worth living and not just surviving. Two battles and it still stands as the user's pinnacle of dominance.

It was a slow start to the day for Colonel Moore since the Legion's defeat two years ago today. The second and last battle for Hoover Dam. Most enemies of the N.C.R.'s glory days have long since faded away into obscurity, leaving the war hero without any enemies to pass the time.

"Why did I ever bother coming into work?" she asked herself.

Alone in General Wesker's office, there was always something to do. Paperwork needed filing. Records updating. Stock handling. She never mentioned it was fun work. Indulging herself with the secrets on Wesker's terminal would fight the tedium of any size. The wonders she craved was in front of her.

Alas. It wasn't meant to be. An administrator locked his account. Fair enough. It'll be good to see what skeletons her superior had hidden away in the mainframe, but no matter how bored she was, she couldn't live with the guilt of snooping around in her husband's affairs. Loves him too much.

On her profile, she got a notification for a video call. It was an old associate of Wesker's. Ulysses… She enlarged the video image. It was just him on screen, and the background was too obscure to see any detail. They never met or exchanged words before.

"Colonel Moore," he said in his deep voice with a slight broodish undertone, "It's always an honour to meet a person of your calibre."

"It's a pleasure for ONE of us. I could hardly say the same, Ulysses."

Ulysses was a dark man with thick dreadlocks. His breathing mask was bulky and covered half his face, from the chin to his nose. His voice was clear, if not grumbly or profound. Moore didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. Ulysses may be a lone wolf of the Divide, but he still wasn't precisely a person to overlook.

Before he was the original Courier Six of the Mojave Express, he was a member of the Frumentarius of Caesar's Legion. A bad egg of the batch, as if there were any good ones. He was the one who convinced Caesar that Hoover Dam was the pinnacle of the Mojave. Inadvertently causing both battles for the Dam.

"Can I help you?" she muttered disdainfully.

"Personally, no. I seek an audience with General Wesker, and he's offline. Would you kindly acquaint us?"

"I'm happy to inform you that he's out of office right now," she sneered. "Can I take a message?"

His eyes rolled down and quickly back on eye level. "This is unfortunate. When is he due back?"

She sighed. "Today's his day off. Whatever problem you have you'd best to save it for tomorrow."

"The situation is dire."

"Then leave a message, and I'll pass it on to him."

"This is something that needs to be said in person. I will contact him the first minute he's available. Good day, ma'am." Ulysses' video chat collapsed, and he then appeared offline.

"The nerve of him." Her shoulders sagged. "This is a difficult time for Zaac, and this is the last thing he needs right now. What could be so damn important?"

The Dam looked beautiful this time of morning. The bright sun slightly hidden by grey clouds shed a warming ray of light onto the Dam's walls. They reflected as such. The wind ruffled through General Wesker's shaggy tousled hair. It was auburn and was dancing in the wind. Wearing his helmet and riot armour for over two hundred years made him miss the little things, like the wind on his face or the warm touches of a fine woman.

He was left with plenty of time to think about the rest of his young life. At only twenty-three years old, he had a good sixty left to shape up the Wasteland, only because in some ways, it was his fault it came to be. To redeem himself and fix his mistakes.

In the Old World, there was law and order. Police, businesses and proper marketplaces. Not these caravans, factions and these military forces that are more concerned with their own profit. Things needed to change, and he was the one who had to do it. Is there enough time for all that? That was a factor.

With the loss of Sarkis two years ago, Zaac had more time to think and be alone with his thoughts, without some false Demigod clouding his judgement. He was a manifestation of himself, only with different opinions, emotions and obligations. He was given a name, and that name became a separate entity. One he had stuck inside his head for centuries.

Zaac watched the waves below brush and splashed against the Dam. When he closed his eyes, it reminded him what it was like to be back at the beach. This morning was warm enough to convince him. But he wasn't outside to feel his humanity coming back to him; he was there for two reasons. One, he was on his day off. And two, he was visiting family. More specifically his son, David.

Two years ago, Agent David Wesker led a small team to take down Legate Lanius in his camp. With Hoover Dam's defences holding well against the Legion's advances, the team was able to achieve the victory conditions for the engagement. His team members were lucky to survive the confrontation with Legate Lanius, and the casualties across the entire Wasteland after the battle were significantly less compared to the first battle years prior.

Unfortunately, David's life was lost during the battle at the camp. He gave his life to cripple the Legion commander long enough for his companions to eliminate. Focused brute force and efficiency ended Lanius and brought an end for the Legion as their numbers dropped significantly all around the Mojave.

It was tough without him. Now that Zaac was human; he had no way of knowing how to live the rest of his life. Twenty-one years as a superhuman, two hundred and eighty-two as a Demigod, yet only two as a common human. If felt disgusting at first, as opposed to now. Words can only describe it as being inside the skin of something you don't belong in within the world you barely know anymore.

The human perspective was far too different than the young Demigod's before. He saw an infant world on the road to recovery, yet as a human, he can now see the futility of trying to restore the land that used to be. The world was rife with death and corruption.

The statue of the man holding Legate Lanius' helmet was all that was physically left of David's likeness. _The right man, woman or thing at the wrong time or place can make the difference our Gods and masters expect from us._ That's what the plaque said.

David died before the complications for survival ensued. If he were still alive his body would deteriorate, unlike regular humans, his body could still be sustained through Progenitor virus injections. Though that would make him vulnerable to spontaneous mutation. He would have wanted to die a hero, rather a monster.

Zaac knelt over David's grave; his knees didn't ache anymore which was nice. Having his mobility back felt fantastic. Zaac closed his eyes and reminisced about the old days when his family was still around. Days growing up with Claire in Raccoon City. Those days in Amsterdam and Paris, even moments in their adulthood.

Children coming along, and life were suddenly so good to the point of it seeming unreal. Then there was the problem with Umbrella. They never stopped. Not until now. The Horsemen of the Apocalypse are finally where they belong. Rotting in hell, along with any memory for that pharmaceutical menace.

"How you holding up?" a female voice said behind him. Sounded sweeter than usual.

"Better… Nothing is perfect, but things can always get worse."

Sharon Wesker. Cass smiled under the light. Her eyes were kinder, and her hair was cut recently, shoulder-length rather than a ponytail. Still a beautiful shine of blood orange. Hadn't aged a day since the first time they met at the Mojave Outpost, not in person, it was a business trip. She appeared younger. Fuller. Fresher.

Last anniversary Zaac arranged a little get-together with his son's old team plus his descendant Sunny Smiles. Though it was nice with the gang getting together, this time everyone had plans and showed up at different times. Cass was alone, William, Lyannah and Sunny were in the Dam's barracks, and Veronica and Boone planned to show up later.

Cass walked to the grave and stared at the magnificent statue of her deceased husband. Zaac still knelt with his eyes closed. _Wasn't meditating, was he?_ "I miss him too, Zaac. Out of all my lovers, he was the best and I am glad to have had him in my life before he..." She couldn't finish her sentence. Didn't need to. He eyes flushed as she could stare at the statue no longer. "I'm sorry."

"You loved him, didn't you?"

Cass nodded. "I did. I don't know if it was just me being selfish or pathetic but… deep down I did."

"It's natural. People develop feelings they never knew existed in the time they spend with others."

"The last person to actually love me were my parents. I didn't usually care for that lovey-dovey stuff until my ma passed on."

"Least you knew her. That's not much, but that's more than others can say."

"And… you're the only one I can call a dad, and that's hard to tell since you're younger than me."

"Age is determined by how many years you've been born." He shrugged. "I don't feel my age."

"If I cut you open, could I just count the rings?" She chuckled.

He smiled and reared his head to Cass. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world. "That's something David would say. Though I'm three hundred and five, I could pass off as your younger brother." He lost his smile. "Those are the problems you get when you mess with the fundamentals of time."

"David told me about what happened in 2021. The Nexus Incident? Right?" Zaac nods. "What a disaster that must've been."

"It's people like Legate Lanius and Mr House you have to thank for that. Those selfish bastards wanted to rule the world, and guys like us had to suffer for it. All that stays in the past for a reason."

"Apart from that, how are you and Moore holding up? You know, kids 'n' all?"

"Things get better with age. It's not too hard for me. What about you? How are _your_ kids?"

"What can I say?" She cupped her hands and idly walked back and forth behind Zaac with a puzzled expression. Then she found her answer. "They're the most obnoxious brats I had ever put up with in my entire life, but… They're my children, and I love them to bits." She stopped behind Zaac and looked the other way and her eye's flushed again out of sadness. "They're all I have to remember of… David." She turned back around and stared at the statue's face. It had David's smile, and it fit perfectly. "I have no parental instincts, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't manage to raise kids. Especially triplets."

"Those are the problems every new parent faces. Claire and I had these problems back in 2000, only we had four kids."

"It's funny." Zaac stood up and her eyes adjusted to his. She smiled. "I always pictured General Redfield as the fearless type."

"I never knew David was born until the year after in 1998. I died in Raccoon City and again the Christmas after. It was a dire time."

"You weren't ready."

He pouted and shrugged. "No one was at the time. We made do with the cards we were dealt. It paid off in the end as you can see."

"I hope I can catch a break." She and Zaac stared at the statue. It was hard not to. "I miss him so much. Such a gentleman."

"I'm proud he died doing what he did best. Fighting in the name of all good and righteous. He's at rest now with his family at least, and we should be happy for him. He's almost the lucky one… What I wouldn't give to rest in peace. Every day there's a new problem and I feel responsible to do what I can to fix it, only because my past still haunts me. Sometimes I wish I never exalted to Demigod… Sarkis' mere existence took a lot from me, but then..." His eyes strayed away from the statue and at the dirt. "I wonder what would happen if I turned it down."

"You have regrets?"

He blinked and met Cass' eyes. "Fewer than usual but that's normal. I was put on this planet to protect and serve, even in death. I'm only here because I wanted to do more to help."

"Hard to keep loyalty and persistence down. Right?"

"I don't like the term 'persistence'. That sounds clingy. I prefer determination."

"Feels bad man. Did I miss anyone here?"

"Veronica and Boone are coming later. Last I checked, Sunny and William are in back in the Dam."

"Was Lyannah with them?"

"Yeah. She changed since the battle."

"I know. She _tolerates_ me now."

He smiled. "She's warming up to you, that's a bonus. It does my old heart good seeing David's influence rub off on people like you."

"He was a helluva dude."

"That he was." Zaac fiddles with his Pip-Boy. It beeped once, and he came off. "Chip off the old block."

"What's your secret? I want my sons to live in his father's footsteps as David walked yours."

He blushed. "I'm honestly a bit humbled. I guess it comes to traits like chivalry, respect and integrity. I believed there was a lack of real men in our biased world, so I raised my kids to be like me." A woman was coming from the visitor centre. A blonde woman in N.C.R. armour. She walked towards him and Cass. "Don't look now. The ol' ball 'n' chain is coming," he chuckled.

Cass turned around to meet Colonel Moore as she stopped just behind her. "Citizen," Moore greeted nicely. That wasn't usual.

"Colonel."

"Very good. Zaac- General, we have a problem back at the office."

"So much for my day off. Colonel, I'm off duty, I'm your husband, not you superior. What's up?"

"Apologies Zaac. That man Ulysses has requested to see you, and I don't know what to say."

"I just got the notification." Zaac groaned. "I'll go see what he wants."

"Thank you, Zaac. I can't deal with this guy. He's just so… mysterious."

"That's his problem. If you don't mind me, Cass, I have business to attend to." Zaac walked around Cass and went towards the visitor centre with Moore.

"I'll be out here."

Zaac reared his head, still walking on. "I'll get back with you. Colonel, did Ulysses mention any problems in particular?"

"No. He kept it brief. All he wants is to talk to you for whatever reason."

"Mysterious."

"That's why I don't like him, Zaac. He's a Legionary Frumentarii-"

"EX-Legionary." He and Moore passed through the double doors of the visitor centre and passed by many soldiers. Mostly Troopers. The inside was tidy which was nice.

"Frumentarius is my point. Like the bastards that attacked us in the war room."

"It wasn't a picnic for me either."

"Still… if it weren't for you, Oliver and I would be among the casualties."

"It's my job. You shouldn't hold your grudge for an ex-Legionary. Ulysses means well." He and Moore stopped outside his office. The guard outside saluted them and they shared one in turn and entered through the closed metal door. "He wants to bring America to its former roots, even if we find them questionable he isn't considered evil."

"I will tolerate him if it's necessary. Since he has a problem that concerns you, I will do as you say only to get the ordeal over with."

"That's a start. I want this to be over quickly. Sooner he's out of our lives the better. He's spoiling my day off."

"I made dinner plans today. He'd be wise to cut to the chase."

"Now _that_ would be a major disaster." Zaac pulled out his chair and paused. "Sounds nice. Though I was thinking about going for a walk."

"Generals shouldn't walk the Mojave without an escort."

"I can make it work; I'm not like most generals. Could disguise myself."

"I would prefer you to have an N.C.R. escort. I want you to be safe, Zaac."

"I'd rather not." He sits in the leather chair; it squeaked as he got comfortable behind his office terminal. "If you insist, I suppose I could just hit up Vegas and stick around up north."

"Just be careful."

"If you mean that, I'm afraid you don't know me well enough. But if that's what you want, I'll bring Sunny with me. Would that make you happy Cassandra?"

"Happy is a strong word," she murmured. "I'm just relieved."

"You shouldn't vex yourself with me; I'm as powerful as ever. Luckily for both of us, I'm also better looking."

Moore blushed. Those rosy cheeks took away some of her pressing fear factor, something she takes pride in. It faded as quickly as she glanced away. "Let's just get Ulysses out of the way before we get ahead of ourselves."

"Right. That dragged on longer than it should."

Zaac signed into his account and found the invitation to a video call from Ulysses. The screen enlarged, and Moore stood behind him with folded arms, projecting that traditional N.C.R. glare. The background on Ulysses was dark; he was alone in a pitch black room from the looks of it. His eyes shifted as his guest finally spoke in his broodish tone.

"Ulysses, long time no see."

"General Wesker," he said in greeting.

"I hope you have a good reason to bother me on my day off Ulysses. I'm still not on good terms with your agenda. So please, make it brief."

"I have reason to believe that there is Institute activity in the Divide. They infiltrated not long ago and evicted me from my solitude. I have some intel to prove it."

Moore snarled. "The Institute? This far out?"

"Yes, Colonel. It is strange indeed. Gen-1 Synths are scrapping resources within a mile radius of my Temple, and a small team of Coursers already wiped out scores of Marked Men before their arrival."

Moore leant closer to the terminal. "Now why would they go out of their way to do that? It couldn't have anything to do with all those ballistic missiles you have stashed over there would it?"

"Those missiles were deactivated years ago when Courier Six arrived. They're harmless. Nothing but scrap."

"Now that scrap is in the hands of the Institute." Moore leant back and rubbed her eyes.

"The Institute has some of the smartest minds the Wastes have to offer. Cannot underestimate them in the slightest."

"The problem is why are they interested in the ballistics in your Temple if they're unarmed. This just brings up more questions."

"What is the intel you claim to have?"

Ulysses looked at his monitor. He was sat at a desk, that was apparent. "A video capture of my Temple's takeover. I'll show you the footage."

"Let's."

The footage was recorded just above the main entrance to the missile silo that Ulysses uses as his Temple to the Old World. The silo was the largest of the Divide. The fact it is capable of launching several nuclear missiles at once.

This was a huge problem for N.C.R. and the Brotherhood since it was a serious threat. All combined forces they sent to deactivate the silo failed as the Marked Men proved to be hard to kill and promptly trounced the invaders. William "Courier Six" Haydock walked the lonesome road straight to the silo, and the threat suddenly went away.

There were six missiles, three in holding frameworks in a pit on the left and the other three in holding frameworks in the pit on the right side. The main level had a universal array of consoles, plus the launch control terminal Ulysses once planned to use. Two circular machines were flying about the silo. They were known as Eyebots.

The entrance ruptured under an explosive force and blew the shutter door into pieces that scattered across the metal ground. The Eyebots instantly dropped everything they were doing and started firing upon the invaders with their laser blasters. Then they started to take return fire.

Quick beams of blue against the defender's red matched up in accuracy and efficiency. The attacking beams was more consistent and never missed a shot, whereas the angle didn't disclose the attackers, so their accuracy was an educated guess. There wasn't any sound so the guess would be even more biased.

The Eyebot on the left was taking most of the damage after a few seconds of suppression, then it sparked. Flames ignited, and it exploded. The attackers panned onto the last Eyebot, and it didn't fare any better. It was destroyed almost instantly. As soon as it did, the blue beams ceased, and the attackers poured in.

Two of the attackers stood on each side of the screen and scanned the area with another one in the middle. With the camera viewed the back of their heads, four of the attackers were hairless with an eyepiece with a single red lens. The one in the middle was dark with short black hair. While he wore sunglasses, all five of them wore thick clothing, most likely a leather armour or trench coat.

Zaac saw the eye pieces before. Back before the Great War, when S.T.A.R.S. was still around, Neo-Umbrella manufactured what they considered the most advanced supersoldier up to date. Something called a Soldat. Their successor - Exo-Umbrella - had an elite variant that was so powerful they were only used in a small team called the Immortals.

Rumoured only because they couldn't die and always stood at five strong. Their production never happened, thankfully. Though, one thing was relevant now. The lens of these soldiers on the footage matched the alleged Elite Soldats. Zaac hoped it was a coincidence. Single red lights cutting through the darkness.

The five invaders took a stance and paved the way for another two to almost strut into view. A man and woman. The man threw his arm out, and some orders must've been said. The soldiers secured the area weapons ready. Like them, he wore a suit only it was sharper and more expensive. His face was human, and he looked younger than Zaac. Short black hair and a violet tie. He had a violet and white badge on his right tricep, but it was too obscure due to the video quality, and the man moved too fast for Zaac to have a good glance.

The woman was a complete mystery. Long ginger hair and wore a white blazer, similar to some the Institute have with their jumpers. Face hidden; she was a stranger. They both stopped and talked, giving the camera full view of the man but not the woman. He smiled and nodded with a relaxed posture. Like they were close friends. Then without any change of emotion, the man shot the camera with a concealed handgun, and the footage was lost.

Zaac paused the very last frame of the footage of the man shooting the camera since the shot fired produced a big blast of light he went for the frames before that to get a clearer depiction of the man in question. The image was clear, the man was clean cut and was, in fact, wearing an expensive suit and a violet tie. He looked happy.

Zaac rubbed his chin and focused internally. "He looks familiar."

Moore glanced between Zaac and the monitor and zoomed in close before he collapsed it completely back to Ulysses. "Any idea who?"

"Nothing more than a hunch."

"And the woman?"

"Never seen her before. I've seen plenty of women from the back of their heads, and I can tell them all apart, but this one's a mystery to me." Moore slapped him on the back of his head. "Ow..."

"Focus. This is not something to take lightly."

Zaac reared his head to her. "It's my day off can I at least mellow out the mood?"

"It changes nothing."

"Do you have an active ID, General?"Ulysses finally asked.

Zaac faced the monitor. "No. Just a theory. Though, the woman is still a mystery to me."

"On another note, before the Marked Men were wiped out there were several rumours that Legate Lanius lives. Through graffiti and word of mouth they believed he was still alive and some claimed to have seen him before their brutal deaths."

Zaac's face went sour; he choked a little to hold his breath before taking a long sigh. "That's just a coincidence."

"It spurred up during their battles. Most Marked Men claim the man in the suit fights like an actual monster of the east."

"That's unsettling."

"I can guarantee you, Ulysses, that Lanius is dead. I burned his body to ashes. Hell, I made a set of dice out of his spine, tableware out of his ribs. Nothing more brutal than that…"

"That may be, General, but someone needs to investigate."

"I'll have someone to check it out immediately."

"I wish to solicit my services, General."

Zaac smiled. "Are you coming onto me?"

"He means could he join you and the answer is no," Moore said.

"Colonel, keep an open mind. Ulysses, what's in it for you?"

"These machines kicked me out of my land and forced me out of my home. I want to show them the horrors of the Divide, and their actions."

"You're a valuable asset. I'll make my decision now, and I'll keep you informed."

"I can wait."

Zaac muted the video call on both ends and collapsed the window. Ulysses was silent and heard nothing, as did they. Zaac and Moore faced each other and got to talking about his decision. "What do you think?"

"I don't trust him."

"Other than that."

"While his motives are believable, we can't trust him around our soldiers."

"What soldiers are you referring to?"

"You're sending in a team to investigate aren't you?"

Zaac shrugged. "No..."

"You're kidding… You're not going to the Divide alone are you?" Zaac said nothing; his silence made it clear of the fact he may venture alone. Moore didn't want that. She sat down at the desk opposite him and sighed. "Damn it, that's suicide!"

"If Six was able to walk the lonesome road on his own why can't I? I have been there before-"

"This is the Institute we're dealing with."

"I handled Coursers-"

"Not as a human."

"You haven't seen me fight as one before. How can you judge?"

She sighed. "You have an answer for everything. Don't you?"

"Don't give me easy questions."

"You're talking about going to the Divide and facing God knows how many Synths and Coursers. Including rumours that Lanius lives."

He leant back in his leather chair and sighed loudly and held his breath. "Lanius is dead. End of!"

"Why must you do this? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

"It's crucial we find out the Institute's motive. With the scraps of that ordinance in Ulysses' Temple, they could cause nuclear fallout."

"Then send some Veteran Rangers to intercept them, or at least send a team to investigate the silo."

"The last team I sent to scout the Divide were wiped out by that Deathclaw. Trooper Gleeson's distress beacon still haunts me."

"That's war for you..."

"Hundreds of years I sent people to their graves and it never gets any easier. A wise man of World War One once said 'War is organised murder and nothing else.'" He leant forward on his desk. "We're dealing with our own kind over little disagreements, and I refuse to send another team to their deaths for something so trivial."

"Generals have to make hard choices all the time. You know that… we all do because no one wants to make them but someone has to. We put our people above ourselves. And I'm sorry for being blunt, but a general cannot just go into the Divide on their own without an escort."

"That's the thing, Colonel. I'm not working today, am I? You can't stop me."

"No… No…" Some sad tears ran down Moore's cheeks as her eyes flushed. "You can't..." Her head fell into her cupped hands.

"Cassandra…"

Her hands separated, and her worried face looked Zaac's way. "Why must you torture yourself like this? Why? And don't tell me you deserve it. You're a different man now and-"

"I know I'm a different man now. That old life of mine ended when this one started. But that doesn't change how I think. I'm doing this only because I'm the right person for the job. With my health and youth, I need more fieldwork to keep up to date than I did when I was an old man, and this is a perfect exercise. It's better than sending soldiers to their deaths. That's something I refuse to do unless absolutely necessary."

"But alone?"

"I won't be alone, Ulysses will be with me."

"I don't trust him alone with you. People like him have too much to gain by killing you."

"Name three."

She raised her finger. "Crippling N.C.R. budget and resources." She raised another. "Widespread panic." She raised her ring finger. With that flawless gold wedding ring. "Loss of morale..."

"To be fair… everyone has too much profit to remove me from power."

"Answer for everything," she sighed.

"Let's agree to disagree. I won't be alone. That's all that matters."

She relaxed her shoulders. "All right then. It's pointless arguing with you anyway. Just be careful."

Zaac focused back on his terminal and enlarged the video call with Ulysses and unmuted him. Ulysses was still sat where he was as if he never moved at all. He was quite sad like that. "Glad you're still here. Let's organise a rendezvous."

"I'm listening."

"Is there anywhere I can meet you?"

"Hmmm, how do you intend to travel?"

"I know a shortcut. I can be at your temple within the hour."

"That's so soon, General. Are you taking a vertibird?"

"Lol. No. I'm fully aware of the anti-air platforms the Divide has, and I don't intend to get chewed up by the flak turrets there. I have my own _exclusive_ methods."

"In that case, I'll meet you outside my Temple at..." Ulysses checks his watch. Wasn't a normal one. "Ten o'clock, sharp. I got word that the woman and the Institute's team of Coursers are securing Hopeville. They're not due back for at least a few hours."

"So that leaves the unknown man alone in your Temple."

"Indeed. That leaves us at an advantage. I'll wait for you outside within the hour. I wish you luck and safe travel, General. Good day."

"I'll keep you posted of any changes." Ulysses chat window disconnects and Zaac is left with an Empty screen. Moore stood up from her chair.

"How _are_ you getting there?"

"That's a secret, Cassandra."

"I'm your wife. Aren't I entitled to know a secret or two?"

"It wouldn't be a very good secret now, would it? Can you give me some privacy? I need to make travel plans."

"You assume I'm not using the office?"

"Are you?"

She sighed and reared her head away from him. "No..."

"Then would you kindly..."

"Sure."

Moore stepped the door and just after she opened it, she never left. Negative thoughts were flooding her mind for some time now, and even though she hoped they wouldn't be true, they just kept coming back.

Since they married, they have somehow spent less and less time together than the times they were colleagues before the Second Battle. How does that work? She wasn't regretful in the slightest, but it wasn't all she hoped, and Zaac almost looked like he was going through the same.

At this rate, it was probably best for them to separate for a while and see what happens. But one of his traits was his determination and contribution, though, those could be considered a flaw, she loved him too much to give up. Things can change.

Moore left the office and closed the door behind her. Zaac leant back in his chair, and it groaned loudly under his weight. He got to thinking about some things on his mind. The travel to the wretched Divide and the ordinance he may need to protect himself if things go awry.

He was thinking about a certain compound that can be used as a last-ditch effort. Since the unknown couple has a team of Coursers that surpass the ferocity of the Marked Men he may have to consider the drastic measures.

It looks like he has to take a little trip to his secret armoury, his vertibird was waiting on the helipad, and he's on the clock. Zaac stood from his desk and left the office without another word from Moore who was waiting outside. Oblivious she was; she commandeered the office with a humourless smile.

On the helipad was Zaac's trusty steed, the good old vertibird. Though, it was only for transport purposes, it had enough space to offer some offensive capabilities. Would be spectacular to witness the automatic rocket batteries, this wasn't the time to. Could help wiping out some of the Coursers but Hopeville's anti-air platforms are always online. Time for a trip to the armoury.

Man was never meant to fly, but the speed of soaring through the skies was a hell of a drug. Zaac passed over the two large cities of Arroyo and Shady Sands; both had lights shining bright and made too much effort to show off their size and merit.

Arroyo brought the snowy image of 1980s Moscow to mind, and Shady Sands was a large settlement that came a long way since Zaac founded it. Wasn't very advanced compared to Arroyo which was a claimed hotspot for tourists. Always was an eyesore.

He landed the vertibird in the crevice of some rocky red mountains, on the flat land separated the hazardous terrain. With a flashlight in hand, he left his vertibird and approached what was supposed to be Vault 13. Outside he was greeted with the bitter cold that he never felt before. He took advantage of his armour's insulation. The temperature controls were removed with the life support system.

No wolves were howling this time. This morning was cold as it was bright but a man could still work on that tan. He goes to his armoury less often since his son died. Now that he was a married human, Zaac had less time to work on his ordinance and at one point must consider a housekeeper or a maid for his secret armoury. Then that reminds him of Vivian. She was the best maid he ever hired. Like all the others she was dead by a few hundred years.

He used Marcus' hacking tool and his PDA to open the vault door. The lights were all lit up inside. Rows of the same lockers were tightly stacked side-by-side. Walking down the corridor, around a corner to the right was a small open room with three walls. The power armour frame had his old S.T.A.R.S. power armour, the one his son died wearing. It was almost restored for later use. Zaac ignored it this time and went to the room opposite.

This room was a copy of the one opposite, though it just had lockers along the walls and some metal tables in the middle. A single locker had a password system installed, a four button code was required and a secondary security question after. The contents were too dangerous. Though the locker only contained a dull book bound in leather, there was a sizeable sealed satchel.

Inside the satchel were various phials of compounds. Infamous ones. Tyrant, Progenitor, Prototype, T-Veronica, T-Phobos, T-Abyss, Soldat, God and Chrysalid virus were just a few. The sickly mixed colours were despicable, though the worst one of the bunch was right there in front of him under a microscope.

The Executer virus… Just looking at it gave Zaac chills. He never touched it the last time David did with curious eyes. It was too damn dangerous. In a sealed room, however, it was adequate for the time being. Zaac left if and looked at the one he desired most.

The Prototype virus... When injected into a healthy human the powers it simply gives are something for consideration. Speed, vitality, stamina, intelligence and perception were just sooooo tempting. To be above humanity without any drawbacks.

The constant Progenitor virus injections would be a bummer. The exploitation of the superior observation was a pain in the ass. But if anything can deny death, it was the Prototype virus. Since protohumans and superhumans were biologically similar to regular humans.

Zaac felt he was better of as a superhuman. Might as well get an upgrade, at the cost of mandatory weekly injections. Took only two years as a human to leave a bitter taste for something he's not and never should be.

He loaded the injector with the phial of black bile and injected the needle into his left forearm where the veins ran. He hesitated. Zaac knew if he pulls the trigger, he will NEVER be the same again. Then he thought about his days as a young lad.

The best years of his life he was a superhuman, and not a regular human. He was used to it then; he'll be used to it now. Then he pulled the trigger with a smile… The general's howls of pain echoed off the dull walls as the virus compound re-written his D.N.A. with a burning sensation.

His left arm tensed. His muscles grew. His senses sharpened. Loosened his grip on the table and it left a handprint, scrunched up the edge. It was a thick table. The mirror. Zaac checked out the mirror in the locker behind the satchel and saw an old face. His eyes changed their colour, from green to gold. Blinked rapidly, they were solid. Just like that, he wasn't human anymore. "Hello handsome," he chuckled to himself, "Long time no see."

The worst part was out of the way, now was the matter of transport. His shortcut. The thick book. It was brown and plain; the pages inside were blank. Zaac ran his finger down the fore edge. "Show me the secrets of the Arcane Arts," he said. Once the book opened, words faded from nothing and were fully disclosed with images and diagrams. Some of it was unworldly, and the rest were some would say magical.

Words like _summon_ , _cast_ and various forms of _mancy_ like _Necromancy_ , _Pyromancy, Cryomancy_ and even the lost school of _Solomancy._ It wasn't your usual book you'd pick up from the local library. One you would have to fight the Gods themselves over. Zaac was just nimble enough to outfox Phobos.

And what a glorious fight that was. Sarkis narrowed down the exact location of the Book in the ruins of an ancient Mayan civilisation. A city forgotten by time and claimed by nature. The people there treated the Book as a sign from the Gods - they were _partially_ right _._ Sarkis was sent out to find it before Phobos does.

Phobos, the God of the Fear, had clouded intentions from the start. Legend says he shared a rivalry with Jesus Christ and was more than happy to go out of his way to frustrate him. That was his motive for the Book that day, and he was more than willing to kill a young Sarkis for it.

The part where Zaac came in was where Sarkis knew he was fighting a losing fight, and it made sense. Phobos had a brilliant mind and was more experience in combat than Sarkis was at the time. Zaac offered his unnatural skills to outplay Phobos and to claim the Book on the Demigod's behalf. By claiming it, Zaac _owned_ it...

Teleportation was something Zaac wanted. Flicked through pages by the tens and found it somewhere at the start. A wise science-magic doctor once said, " _Teleporters are a sneaky lot."_ People who could appear anywhere at any moment were people who can teleport. Those born with the ability were called natural-born Teleporters. There was a way to harness this power like many others in the book. The Teleporters on Fourth Earth have no idea their power could be harnessed by those who aren't natural-born.

There was an open jar of black ink and a small pile of paper in the back. The sheets were Chinese xuan paper, known for being soft and finely textured. Zaac placed the book and paper on the table and swirled the bamboo paintbrush with a generous amount of ink. The ink and paintbrush were of unique origins that even Zaac hardly knew, though it wasn't a regular brush. The brush doesn't drip, that's why.

The two symbols were Chinese. Zaac drew them on the special paper slowly and with perfection in the wrist. The strokes were solid black and were near enough mirrored exactly to the last detail. While he studied the diagram, there were instructions on how to teleport.

He didn't know much about Teleporters and how they get about, but the instructions were clear on the fact he has to be calm and at peace before using. This was mandatory for long distances or novices. He will develop along the way.

Zaac unsheathed his combat knife and ran it across his left hand's palm and drew his blood. He grunted under the smooth blade as his blood flew generously. The droplets had a thin texture. He dripped his blood over the symbols until they were fully submerged. The inked symbols absorbed his blood and changed to a solid red colour, and it glowed slightly under the light. Looked like an aura.

The paper was pressed against his left forearm, and that was the worst part. The pain. Zaac cried out as the symbols burned into his skin. The sensation could be described as irritating and scolding. Once it latched on, the paper couldn't be moved. It fused and became a part of his body. He breathed and saw the two Chinese symbols as a tattoo. Now all he has to do is find out how to use it.

 _Clear your thoughts. Free your mind. Be at peace._ Meditating was so much easier compared to that of a human. _Bliss_. Like magic, teleportation was an art. You don't simply appear where you want to be, you move and manipulate the land to come closer to you until you reach your location. You move everything but yourself. The magic opens a rift, you picture the location and bring it to you.

Zaac thought about Hoover Dam. He strained his mind to become where he wants to be. A rule for beginners was to teleport to places you have been whereas people natural born – through stern training – can teleport anywhere they want effortlessly without any hindrance. Zaac wanted to go to his sanctuary within the Dam.

He opened his eyes, and he couldn't see anything. The faintest dripping was all he could hear. He was below his office in his hidey hole. The sanctuary. His shrine. It worked! He teleported. He stayed with his legs crossed and thought harder on his next location. Somewhere further. Like Vegas.

He opened his eyes again to the sounds of ventilation. He was on a metal catwalk above a dark abyss. The limited lighting suggested that he was back inside Lucky 38. Mr House's LS chamber was down here. Zaac peeked through the glass, and he was disappointed with what he saw. He was dead. Zaac wanted him to suffer. Not to die. Oh, well.

Now Zaac was back in his armoury. He was excited. The power to disappear and appear anywhere he's been before. No need to walk or fly. Now the trip to the Divide will be instant. That sounds better than a day's march. He had fifteen minutes to get combat ready. It was quarter to ten.

Time was a factor. Zaac put everything back where he found it and went into the room opposite to collect some wares. Could only teleport with what's touching him and vice versa. He had a loaded Desert Eagle in a holster under his armpit. A primary weapon was needed.

He took the first rifle from the assault rifle rack; an old R91 assault rifle was adequate. Silenced and had a medium-ranged scope. Six clips of armour piercing rounds should do it. Zaac swiped some flashbang grenades from the grenade section. Only had room for three. Had to keep it light and organised. As for protection, he was okay with his riot armour. The power armour was one of a kind and just plain overkill and was in serious repair.

Zaac closed his eyes and sat down with his legs crossed. Thinking hard and internally. The Divide was over a hundred kilometres away, and that was far. _Focus. Breathe. Become one with the location._ Zaac disappeared.

Ulysses got tired of standing around. The way the Marked Men and as of now the way the Institute made a mess of things outside his solitude was irritating. He bided his time by cleaning up the junk into a pile. Tin cans, trolleys and bottles were the smallest scraps. He left the plain couch to sit on afterwards.

After piling up some dead Marked Men, it was ten o'clock sharp. General Wesker wasn't here yet. Then Ulysses saw him walking from the main entrance. Naturally, he took this as someone else and drew his 12.7 SMG into his sights and quickly relaxed.

"How did you get here without me knowing, General?" Ulysses asked. Would sound soft but his tone was so deep.

"I told you, I had a shortcut," Zaac sneered. "It wasn't an easy one."

Ulysses grumbled. "You should show me sometime. Could come in handy the next time the Institute invades."

"That's why we're here, to make sure they don't."

"The very least they can do is tell me what they want." Ulysses slung his large SMG over his shoulders and kicked over a small pile of cans and walked to the main entrance. "The Divide is not for them to wander without suffering its wrath."

"Yeah… sure. Let's go see what this guy has to say about his colleagues." Ulysses brushed past his shoulder, and Zaac turned around and walked at his side. "Shouldn't be too hard for the both of us."

"You're overly zealous."

"Someone's got to be. This isn't a minor problem."

"We can interrogate one man. People of the Institute aren't known for their individual offensive abilities."

Zaac and Ulysses never met each other's eyes. Not even single glare was exchanged. They walked and talked automatically side-by-side. "Don't need to be when they have sentient humanoids doing everything for them. All that work paid off, and now they're just taking the piss."

The two passed through two metal doors, and the leftover scraps of some robots were scattered all over the ground. All the doors were open, and anything mechanical was scrapped not long ago. Controls terminals, vendors and Eyebots were the very few. "You see the destruction Courier Six brought on his arrival, General?"

Zaac stopped at what used to be a Sentry bot. Heavily armed and fierce battle robots. Nothing but a hull left of it. "No…"

"You best watch yourself around him. He's not entirely sane. There's dark in him."

Zaac brushed his chest. "Believe me, I know about what makes him dark. Has a history back in the Capital." He quickly met up with Ulysses' pace and stopped with him at another main entrance. Where the camera was shot on the video footage. "Here we go."

The man in black was unaware of the door opening; he was too focused on a computer terminal that wasn't cooperating with him. The calibration for the missile wasn't easy. A huge missile that touched the ceiling was thicker and longer than anything Ulysses seen or even used before. It was outfitted for travelling purposes; there was a glass dome that exposed a cockpit of sorts.

Plus, there was a ramp that leads to an open compartment. The missile was a rocket ship. More thrusters up high and down low, it was designed for space travel. But why? It wasn't a cheap knock off as it looked operational.

If this man were Legate Lanius, he would've heard the smallest of footsteps even if they were outside. The man's perception wasn't on par so it couldn't be Lanius. Must be something missing.

"Damn it. It's fuckin' Lanius."

"Impossible," Ulysses grumbled behind Zaac. "The N.C.R. cremated his body."

"I know, I was there."

"Lanius really does live. Just as those writings say."

"Those are the retarded scribblings of dying Marked Men, Ulysses. But the man behind the mask certainly lives. That's for sure. He's up to his old tricks again."

"Should we treat this imposter any different?"

Zaac stopped and turned. Ulysses stopped by him. "No. We find out what he's up to, and then we kill him."

"You always were the spying type, Wesker," the man said in a strangely familiar voice. One Zaac used to know from his youth. Like honey on sandpaper. "Prowling around where you're clearly not wanted."

"That's a voice I like and hate at the same time. It's been a while, Savage," Zaac called from behind. "You know. Since you last killed me."

Dorian scoffed. He still looked away from Zaac and Ulysses. The problem with the terminal was greater than the arrival of his foes. "Clearly it wasn't enough to last. You still stand. That which mocks me." He straightened his back and turned around to Zaac and Ulysses. They walked closer with their weapons in hand. "Can't I go one lifetime without you getting in my way? For God's sake, is that too much to ask?"

"That's the thing about me. Like my father and Chris, we are forever intertwined."

" _Unlike_ Wesker, I intend to kill my nemesis, if you weren't so persistent, I would've succeeded too. Though your meddling begs for immediate destruction, you can wait. Nothing will change our plans."

"Well… since your plans involve the Institute, that is a concern for me and what a surprise you're in the middle of it."

"A concern for you?" Dorian sneered. He stepped away from the terminal and stepped onto the middle of the path. It was a higher platform. Faced them directly. "For a minute I thought that lapdog of yours went crying to you for help."

"You're referring to me, are you not?" Ulysses finally grumbled.

"Who else, Ulysses? Guess it doesn't take much to drag you out of retirement does it?"

Ulysses had no anger behind his voice. "You evicted me, Lanius," he said, "You can't expect me to take it lightly."

"Admit it; it was nice to see me. Been years since we last worked together wasn't it?"

"I do not remember you, nor that I want to. Frankly, you irritate me."

Dorian pointed at Ulysses with no bite in his bark. "That's why you were a mere spy, and not an equal."

"How are you still alive, Savage? Last I checked, your corpse is nothing but bones. Then you defy death once again and go crawling back to the Institute. Is the Legion not good enough for you?"

"My old employers may have disagreed with my actions, but that doesn't mean I am so quick to forget their utilities."

"Didn't figure the Institute lets strays back in."

"I'm not a stray!" Dorian snarled with his eye's flaring in intense colour. "I didn't come back to the Institute; I _broke_ out."

"Why were you there in the first place?"

"Before my employment was terminated," Dorian said while he walked side by side with heavy steps, "I was working on a secret project. Gen-4 Synths. These models were to surpass their current Gen-3 Coursers and infiltration units. Their increased CPU storage would allow them to adapt, conquer and even impersonate emotions. So good, in fact, they couldn't be identified by humans or the Institute. Only the handler could control them."

"Sounds like an abomination of technology. What went wrong?"

Dorian stopped midway in his pacing. "The damned Institute uncovered my plans to use them as weapons of war and thoroughly escorted me out." He resumed his pacing. "The project was put on hold until someone with less malicious intentions come by to finish them."

Zaac rested his R91 over his left shoulder. Ulysses didn't move. "What good is that to them? Their Gen-3 are adequate."

"Yet they are only limited to their design. That's their flaw. The regular Gen-4 models will be exclusive for warfare and surpass any Synth, Supermutant and any human in their way." Dorian stopped again and looked away. "The human mind can process so much information regarding emotions and adaptive countermeasures, and I found a way to replicate that for the new Gen-4 Synths. Life after death with all their memories and emotions intact. It's a tricky process, so it is almost impossible to do without backing up the mind of the said person on a flash drive of sorts." He smiled and faced Zaac and Ulysses. Neither of them was smiling as he was. "The best part? I replicated two minds already. One for me and another for an old enemy of ours."

"You're a… Synth?"

Dorian's shoulders sagged. "That is true… You destroyed my organic body, what did you expect? Sure I can't blink, and my killing potential isn't what it used to be, but I can still look forward to the fact I no longer have my weaknesses."

"You share the Synths' weakness now. I killed plenty of Coursers to know how to kill them, and you are no different."

"That's Gen-3 you're talking about, not Gen-4. Even if it wasn't clear, I am still Dorian Savage, and you both are interfering with my plans. You know the drill by now don't you, Wesker?"

"That we try to kill each other? Yeah." Zaac pulled his weapon down and put Dorian in his sights. "Looking forward to it actually. Two years ago when you killed me, I still saw how you killed David back at your camp, and I got to say…" He paused to breathe and then he growled, "I'm not going to waste this chance to make you pay for killing my son!"

Dorian raised his arms in a mock surrender. "Ooooh, someone's a bit salty. Why don't everyone calm the fuck down? How many times did your son get in over his head?" Zaac said nothing. He stared at Dorian like he was drilling a hole through his forehead. "Messing with a weapon a person doesn't understand will always lead to consequences. Natural selection. Nothing more. Nothing less."

Zaac brought his weapon to his eyesight and Ulysses did the same. Both of them were ready to fire at will. "You're mocking my son, you asshole! You do realise you can't blink?" Dorian suddenly smiled. "Do you think you can dodge a bullet?"

"Let's not. My better half has just arrived. Why don't you two catch up?"

"What?"

"Poor naive Zachariah, so oblivious," a beautiful voice said behind Zaac and Ulysses. Her high heels were loud with every step, and her voice became more and more sinister as she spoke, "Oh how some people just never change is beyond me." Zaac turned around to face her, and all colour on his face went south. He lowered his weapon, and his eye twitched.

The woman stood with her one arm folded and the other resting under her chin. Her long, medium copper hair went below the shoulders and her white blazer covered as low as her knees. Her eyes matched Dorian's solid gold. With her red lipstick and gentle smile, she could pass off as a single independent woman that was too smart to be a psychopath. But in reality, she was as evil and unstable as Dorian. She stopped behind him and Ulysses while they almost gawked at her.

The woman smiled. "Long time no see, Wesker."

"Drusilla?"


	2. Zaac vs War and Conquest

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Zachariah." She was right; Zaac's eyes had no soul in their glare. For a moment he looked so weak and frail.

Zaac's voice returned, an irritated one. "No… You can't be alive!"

"Is that all you really have to say after all these years?" She held her chest with a mocking grin. "I'm heartbroken."

"You're the unknown woman."

"That I am Ulysses."

"That's not bloody fair!"

Drusilla rolled her eyes and walked closer towards Zaac; her heels made her footsteps audible. "Where's the fun in playing fair? I play to win." Instead of walking to Zaac, she passed between him and stood by Dorian's left to wrap her arm around his shoulder. He was at least six inches taller than her, and it showed. "I trust my good friend here filled you in on the blanks?"

"Someone has to," Dorian chuckled. "The poor boy's not too bright." Zaac made no comment; he was struck with a sudden shock. He couldn't move any part of his body; he was scared. No. Petrified. "He thinks we're here on Institute business."

"How trivial."

"I agree," Dorian replied.

Drusilla faced Zaac. "No. This is, in fact, a wonderful day for us all. For you and us." Zaac said nothing. He was silent, just staring at her.

"Nothing to say, Wesker? Just a few minutes ago you refused to shut up. Cat got your tongue?"

"How…?" Zaac uttered at long last.

"Pathetic."

"Oh wow," Drusilla sighed. "He really has nothing to say."

"You're both Synths!" Zaac screeched. "Uh, how… HOW did you get her mind on a flash drive, Dorian? Are you that freakin' stupid? She's insane!"

Dorian suddenly stepped forward with rage in his eyes and tone. This made Ulysses step back. "Don't you dare mock her in my presence!" he snarled. _Did he just defend her? An Ashford?_ The Wesker, Savage and Ashford families never got along at all. This sudden act just raised more questions.

"Why do __you__ care?"

Drusilla patted Dorian's chest and his anger dissipated. "Now now, Dorian," she said nicely, for once. "An honest mistake. Zachariah, be reasonable, did you think I wouldn't have a backup plan the last we faced?"

Zaac's shoulders sagged. "I was actually hoping you didn't..."

"And that's why __you__ lost." She let go of Dorian and stared at her hands. "I knew I wasn't long for the world the last minute I decided to watch my plans come together." She smiled and raised her head and drummed her fingers, mimicking rain. "Those missiles soaring through the air all at once warmed my heart. That last mushroom cloud that wiped out Boston was nuclear perfection. I actually cried over the sheer beauty up until that same nuke claimed me as a victim too."

Drusilla lowered her arms and presented herself with a flourish. "A few days ago, I was born anew." She patted Dorian's chest like he was a pet. "All thanks to this wonderful man and his Institute knowledge."

"You flatter me, mistress."

"That didn't answer anything!"

"You're right, for once, it didn't." Drusilla let go of Dorian. "The Institute was built from the Commonwealth's Institute of Technology. While you and my cretinous father hunted down, Brother Dante, you gave my dear master time to reach the Commonwealth. C.I.T., to be precise. What does that mean to you, Zachariah?"

"That Verkraft Industries founded the Institute… The Master..."

Drusilla slowly clapped for Zaac's sudden contribution to the story. Mocking him, intentionally. "Bravo, you finally get it."

"That's how I found her," Dorian added. "Those stupid people couldn't remove her likeness from the Institute network. When I came online, I brought her onto a flash drive." He turned his head and rubbed his chin, mockingly and out of habit.

"That makes you think, doesn't it? To think this little meeting would never have happened if I was just left alone within the Legion. I wouldn't be dead and have a shiny new body to play with..." He glared back at Zaac with a crude smile. "Your group of mindless fools ended me, and now I'm reborn," he reached for Drusilla's hip and pulled her to his, "and I brought a friend to enjoy the rest of my life with."

He and Drusilla kissed, making as much sound as possible for the sake of pissing Zaac off. It worked. He didn't need to see that. "Oh my God..."

The Savage, Wesker and Ashford families shared a rocky relationship. The surviving Savages found the Weskers to be rivals during their history in Umbrella. Then the Ashford child prodigy suddenly revealed herself and thoroughly redirected Savages' rivalry to her. The Weskers just moved on and slowly drifted away from Umbrella, ending _their_ feud.

Most noticeably Dorian Savage detested Alexia Ashford and Albert Wesker; their history together made it hard for them to tolerate each other. Ashford twins died, and their successors faded into obscurity. Then Drusilla was soiled by the family lineage and made it her life's work to carry out Alexia's legacy. She was only a baby at the time Dorian _died_ and a teen when Wesker died _._

"This is wrong on so many levels," Zaac said, almost gagging. The sight was insufferable for him.

Drusilla still had her right arm around Dorian's shoulder. "You are so immature, Zachariah," she said.

"Better to be immature than… whatever you two are doing." Zaac looked away. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"How is it every time he speaks, I feel like my brain cells are committing mass genocide?"

Drusilla looked at Dorian. "He still doesn't understand."

Dorian quickly glanced at her. "No, he does not."

"I'd rather skip _those_ details and jump straight to the motive. We came here to find out what the Institute is planning to do in the Divide and you two are in the middle of that investigation." Zaac relaxed his arms and used his R91 as a crutch. Rested the weight of his elbow on the rifle's butt. "Enlighten me, please. I'm tired, and all this is just wearing me down."

"You are such a pathetic being. You know that, right?"

"Spare me the commentary," Zaac grumbled.

Drusilla let go of Dorian and reached out for Zaac. "As I stated earlier, this is a wonderful occasion, not just for us but for __you__ too and to start it off we are unfortunate to admit defeat. The fact of the matter, you outlasted us, and we give up. Congratulations."

"I won?" Zaac scoffed. "Let me get this straight. I am trapped in the same room with two of the world's monstrous warmongers who just so happen to be Conquest and War, and __I__ won? How the fuck am I a winner here?!"

"Some people can't take a compliment."

"I agree. It's hard to get a decent compliment these days, and he spits it back at us."

"We have fought and won many battles with you, Zachariah, but you won the war. We quit our feud with you."

"Speak for yourself," Zaac snarled. "You won't quit, it's not in your nature!"

"We're both done with you. We have better things to do."

"Like what? Where on Earth do you think you can go without me knowing?"

"The crux of the matter is that we are leaving this pitiful planet in search for a better one."

"I can see that from here," Zaac said while he glared past Dorian and Drusilla. The __missile__ in question was hardly made for nuclear warfare. "You outfitted that missile for interstellar purposes. There are only so many planets out there, and they're all void of life."

Drusilla folder her arms and smiled. "Who said anything about the planets in __our__ solar system?"

Zaac paused to digest what he heard, and his jaw almost dropped. "You… You're leaving the actual solar system? You can't just pick up and go as you please!"

"Oh, I disagree with you there. I got word that someone crash landed here in the Mojave a few weeks ago. The pilot in question wasn't of this world and can only be described as a 21st century American badass, stereotypical of course. A muscle-bound idiot that is known to be vulgar even by American standards."

Zaac gnashed his teeth and growled. "That's a need to know basis! How the hell do you know that?"

"It's wonderful what spies can accomplish these days. They can turn the tides of war and dig up juicy secrets. My favourite part about them is their efficiency in assassination. I only wish I had more of them to command." She rubbed her chin. "If I recall, that Mister Torgue came from the nearby solar system to ours. When he arrived, it weakened the rift separating them." She smiled. "All we have to do is make contact, and then we can begin anew."

"Why? What's in it for you? This is a ridiculous risk you're taking. And for what?"

"An alien vault of treasure. Through this idiot's broadcast, I learned there's a planet named Pandora. A corporation called Hyperion called for vault hunters to ravage, pillage and kill for loot beyond the human imagination. This sounds like a perfect opportunity to turn a new leaf and not be tied down with the troublesome history here with you."

"Do you know how fuckin' retarded that sounds?! Not only it's a gamble at best, but you can't just leave the planet to pursue your selfish greed. That's not who you are."

"Who are you to declare who we are, Wesker?" Dorian growled. He let go of Drusilla and wagged his finger at Zaac. "As hard it is for you to understand, we quit. We don't revolve around you. Now is a time for us to do something for ourselves." He clenched his fist. "And that is cold hard cash."

"Advanced alien technology. Power. Fame. Fortune."

"Women… Don't forget women."

Drusilla glared at Dorian and still smiled."Behave yourself, Dorian. I am the very best you deserve."

Dorian lost his smile and adjusted his eyebrows with a suggestive stare. "Still the thought itself just pales to what actually lies in the vault. We must make preparations to vacate."

Drusilla nodded. "Agreed." Still, with that menacing smile, she stepped forward and addressed Zaac. "Well Zachariah, this is where we bid you adieu. There are civilised worlds beyond our solar system that could do with a bit more War and Conquest. What do you think?"

Zaac clutched his rifle's butt tightly. He tried his best to hold his fury behind; some almost slipped out. "If what you say is true, then this is my only chance I can make you pay for the torment you caused me."

"All we hear from you is you and your pain. Get over it and stop being so pathetic."

"I'm pathetic?!"

"Mmmm, a bit, yeah."

"There's no way you're letting us leave, is there?"

"Over my dead body," Zaac snarled.

"Excellent choice. It would be my pleasure to kill you again." Zaac brought his rifle in his hands, in fear of an impending battle as did Ulysses, they stood their ground. "And when I do I want you to do me a favour and just remember all the people you let down before I killed them, and how you couldn't save them."

Zaac's blood was reaching the boiling point, the mere mention of his failures by the woman who caused them was making it hard from not lunging at her. That's just suicide, but the idea was more tempting as she went on and on. "I can take a hint, Drusilla," he grumbled. "If you want me to fight, just say so. I know you want it."

"That's funny… I didn't need to say anything last time to get you to fight. All I needed was to break you." She curled her tight lips and mocked, "Got any more wives for me to kill? I'm getting a bit bored."

Zaac was about to vent his rage as he brought his rifle into his sights, but before he could open fire, Dorian charged at him and rammed his left shoulder into his chest. He shoulder charged him like a bullet and launched him at the front door. Zaac's back dented the door's frame and left him on the cold ground. He rolled and stopped at the very back door to the outside, surrounded by clutter.

Ulysses brought his SMG to his hip, and as he hovered over the trigger, Dorian grasped the weapon and raised it over their heads. Then a short burst of rounds peppered the ceiling above. Dorian's left elbow struck against Ulysses' stomach after the second strike forced him to loosen his grasp he grunted under his breath and ripped the weapon from his the SMG in his stronger hand, Dorian punched Ulysses' face, and the strength alone threw his body to the left side of the silo. He hit a metal railing before falling on his face.

Dorian turned to Drusilla and adjusted his sunglasses and discarded the SMG. "Are you hurt, mistress?"

Drusilla smiled. "Aw, you're too kind Mr Savage. It pleases me to see you defend your queen."

"Wesker almost shot you. I couldn't stand by and let him lay a finger on you."

Drusilla stepped to Dorian and kissed him on the lips. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To see me torture him."

Now Dorian smiled and instantly had his charm back. She had her arm around his shoulders. "That I would. I'd enjoy it more if you were safe, mistress."

"Forgive me, my king, I just had to taunt him for old time's sake. After all, it's been two hundred and six years since I had this much fun provoking him. He's just so easy."

"I really don't want to spoil your fun, but I need to know if you have the thrust control modules." Drusilla dropped a small green chip into Dorian's hand. It was no bigger than his thumb. "Excellent! Where did you find one?"

"General Retslaf had a spare in his desk."

"I don't know who that is, nor that I care."

Dorian let go of her and stepped back down to the control terminal for another check. The chip fits into an open space on the platform's electronics. The previous one was destroyed in their trial run, and the one before that was stolen by Courier Six. The small bulb on the motherboard lit up, and a window popped up. The one he needed to activate the space vessel. The only option as a seven-minute timer with a default one minute added for safety measures in case seven minutes isn't enough. It can be reset back to seven-minute timers at will.

"How long have we got until we can leave?"

The terminal's green glow reflected of Dorian's sunglasses. "Seven minutes, with an extra for safety."

"Suits me fine."

The terminal beeped in conjunction with Dorian's watch. An Institute brand. "My watch is set, mistress."

Drusilla clapped cheerfully. "Splendid! We can finally leave our past behind us, and we have some time to play with our pets."

Dorian stepped into view and regained his stance behind Drusilla. He was as happy as she was. "That we do." He called over to Zaac, "You hear that, Wesker?! Seven minutes! Seven minutes is all we can spare to play with you!"

"He must be unconscious," she murmured. "He didn't respond."

"It's rare for him to have anything worth saying."

Drusilla quickly checked back at Dorian and back at Zaac's motionless body. "I hope you didn't kill him."

"I didn't hit him too hard," he shrugged.

"Ho hum. We still have his friend to torture." Zaac's body began to move. He crawled slowly and often fell on his belly. Ulysses barely moved. Still, face down. "Ah good, he's still alive."

"Enjoy yourself, mistress." Dorian walked around the lower platform away from her.

"You no partake?"

"I had my fun during my Legion days. To be honest, I wouldn't mind testing Ulysses myself."

"Enjoy."

When Dorian came over, Ulysses was staring at the ceiling, thought to be dead if he wasn't blinking or breathing quietly. He was staring at the ceiling. There was nothing special about it, though the man was always a mystery wrapped in an enigma. His complex thoughts could break the toughest of individuals.

"Your impersonation of a throw rug is unrivalled, Ulysses. Why haven't you bothered getting up?"

"I'm thinking."

"Be careful. We wouldn't want you to break something." He checks his white watch. "We got five minutes to play. I always wanted to spar with you, since I missed my chance with Graham."

"Then I will gladly oblige. I will answer the Divide's call." Ulysses never moved. His arms spread out and he was comfortable enough to rest on the ground."

"Well?"

"Give me a minute."

Dorian smiled. "You don't have a minute, Ulysses. We're on the clock."

Zaac was on his elbow and knees, doing everything he can to muster up some strength to get back on his feet. He knew there was either a huge dent or a large cavity his back, maybe a severed vertebra. The feel in his limbs was there, so he wasn't paralysed, but even with his advanced metabolism he still needed time to recuperate. His wound was too severe to shrug off.

Drusilla frowned upon Zaac's attempt to get up. Looked down at him in disappointment. "Oh my, you can barely get up. For shame." Zaac growled in response; his throat was burning. Couldn't talk. "Is your back broken? Aw, poor thing. You'll be out of your misery soon enough."

"You're all talk, Dru," he grumbled.

"Am I?" Drusilla kicked Zaac's stomach and threw him on his back near the very back door. The point on her heeled shoe dug into his belly. He clutched his gut and forgot about the pain in his back. She kicked and stomped on his torso repeatedly. Zaac tried to protect himself, but the kicks were coming in all over, he tossed and turned under her wrath. Like kicking a lump of meat, it wasn't fun for her. "Come on! Get up and have some dignity, at least."

"So you can kick me back down?" he growled. "No. I'll get up when you least expect me to."

"Back when I lured home and broken you, I only wanted a challenge. To fight a Demigod… what better challenge is there? Needless to say, I was disappointed. I heard all the legends, the feats and the potential this Sarkis left behind and I was not rewarded when I faced _you_. Someone had to pay for wasting my time."

"Why me? Why my family?" Drusilla kicked his gut, he lost his breath and cursed lightly.

"Why not? I was disappointed, so I took it out on the ones you love. Look at you. You're on your hands and knees clinging onto your insignificant life. Every time I even _think_ about you, Zachariah, is always the same thought. _This. This is an all-powerful Demigod-"_

"I am NOT Sarkis..."

"Let's not get into details." She arched her back closer to him. Zaac still struggled to get his energy back he lost with Dorian's shoulder charge. "It's no surprise to you that all I want is to carry on Queen Alexia's legacy, but what good is any of that without a challenge of sorts. I got all excited for you and all I got was a feeble old man who couldn't save his family – let alone the Redfield siblings."

"I was seventy-seven years old, give me a fucking break!"

"What is age to a Higher Being?"

"I am NOT Sarkis! You ignorant psychopath!"

Drusilla smiled. "Am I? Is that what you think?"

Zaac breathed slowly and stared back at her with fury in his eyes. "Even I admit, some Ashfords weren't all bad. Even Alexia… But that doesn't justify her actions. She was mentally unstable, and you raised the bar even higher."

"What proof do you have? I am not a martyr for the Old World like you are." She placed her small hands on her pale cheeks. " _Oooooo, I'm a psychopath, I'm misunderstood,"_ she mocked. "I have standards and needs to satisfy as all of my predecessors had before their time passed. Being disappointed was not one of them. You probably thought, after I had killed you, I tied up all the loose end and carried on with my plans. But no... After your pathetic attempt of a rescue mission, I was angry, so I took my frustration out on your lovely Claire."

Zaac's face went pale as he reached out for her in a blaze of furious glory but she kicked his face in and toppled him over on his back. His mouth and nose bled, and his sight was hazy. "I see a trend in you, Zachariah," she continued, "I'll explore that later for my amusement, but right now it's actually funny… If you weren't so weak to satisfy me, I wouldn't feel the need to take it out on her. I would've moved on, or at least make it quick, but I didn't all because of you. Guess all beggars can't be choosers. In a way, it was all your fault, and I doubt she was the first to die in your failure."

Zaac covered his face. "Stop pinning it all on me."

"The Redfield's killed _my_ queen, and since you're here, that means you're back on my list."

"I'll tell you what you already know, Alexia brought it on herself-"

"As did you and the Redfields. The glory of the Ashford family will be reborn sooner or later; you know that. It's futile. I just need a fresh start; we all do." Drusilla checks her own Institute watch, paying close attention to the time. "Two minutes left. Shame. It looks like we're entering overtime."

Zaac rolled onto his stomach and got back on his hands and knees. Strength returning. Some of it was. "I'd like that," he said clearly, "Gives me more time to recover."

Drusilla claps happily. "Splendid! I get to enjoy playing with my favourite toy. Oooooo, everyone's a winner!" she cooed. On the hidden earpiece in her left ear, she spoke to another, "Mr Savage," she said, "be a dear and extend our play date."

Zaac heard Dorian's voice but couldn't make out his exact words.

Drusilla stepped back and brushed her hair. "You got seven minutes, Zachariah. Seven minutes of pain."

Zaac stood back up on his two feet. It was hard getting all the energy he lost back into his system. A problem when caught off guard. "That's all I need," he snarled.

"Is that what you say to all the women? You know, the ones I haven't killed yet?"

 _ _No more games.__ "One for the ages Dru. The Ashfords' time is over!"

Zaac roared and sent a right hook that missed Drusilla's face, she stepped back and let him follow through. After a left cross, she raised her arms in defence. Her block turned to a strike to the throat, as sudden and savage as she was. Zaac lost his breath and stepped back. Zaac kept his guard close, protecting his head, but dropped when Drusilla kicked his chest in - cracking into his ribs as strong as Dorian would.

Her kick was a feint and turned into a step, and Drusilla swung a punch in, but Zaac caught it, his left hand closing around the woman's right wrist. Even with his strength, he couldn't break her hand. Felt as solid as rock. Zaac surged upwards and threw a straight punch aimed for her chest.

Drusilla caught onto the danger and intercepted his blow with her left forearm, that released her hand from his grasp and left him reeling. She threw a right hook at Zaac's face, messing up his nose and breaking it upon impact. He staggered back but was able to block her left hook.

Drusilla twisted her body around into a backspin kick, but Zaac just disappeared, her heel hitting nothing. She felt two hands wrap around her head and into a lock; she couldn't move, only huff. She grabbed Zaac's forearms and tested his strength, pushing herself hard to unravel his arms around her head.

Zaac couldn't best Drusilla's strength. She peeled his arms away almost with ease and pressed her hip into his. After that, she tensed her body and threw Zaac over her shoulders, slamming him into the wall to her left. Zaac flew into a discarded metal cabinet, and then he rolled onto a metal table. The office clutter was untouched for years, and Zaac broke everything with his mass. He scrunched by the table and got back on his feet.

The table was missing two legs; it was still a weapon. Zaac swung it at Drusilla, swooshing through the air left and right. Both times he missed her. The third swing she blocked, which dented his weapon and she returned a punch to his face, cracking against his chin.

 _ _You're losing,__ Auditor reminded Zaac inside his own head. __Let me out.__

Drusilla twisted her body and kicked his chest. He fell back against the wall and sat on his one heel. Then she moved in and threw a straight punch. A hole. Drusilla's fist went through the seemingly thick wall, stopped somewhere below her right elbow. Zaac rolled away to her right and out of sight while she struggled to get her arm free.

"Damn," she sighed.

Zaac latched himself to her back and wrapped his arms around her neck; he towered over her in height. It wasn't easy to get the strength to break her neck; she resisted his influence. His hands going for her neck again fuelled Drusilla to rip her hand from the sturdy wall to address Zaac's hold on her..

She jerked her head against Zaac's face, and his head rocked back, blood trickled against the back of her neck and shoulders. Hit him like a wrecking ball, and he cried out, that gave her time to slip from his arms and out of his sight. She twisted her body and backspun kicked Zaac with her right heel, and he grunted. Her ruby-red lips twisted into a sneer.

His hair whipped his face; Zaac reached out and felt something moving for him fast. Suddenly his throat felt constricted. Drusilla's hand clutched his jaw and neck, and then he was lifted off his feet. She cheered and dropped his weight onto the ground, her strength piled on and then he heard a loud crack in the back of his head. It echoed along with that dark voice. Empty and hollow with his own thoughts.

 _ _You'll die if you don't let me out,__ _ _Zachariah__ _!_

Zaac cried out as the world inside his head faded to black. It rocked around and felt cracked. He drooled. Drusilla grabbed Zaac's jacket collars and the inside of his belt and raised him above her head and then promptly dropped his weight. She cracked him onto her right knee and dug it into his back, round by the waist. After a loud crack, Zaac knew she broke the bat. He lost all feeling in his legs momentarily. He cried out louder and with tears in his eyes.

Drusilla wasn't finished with him and couldn't leave him on his face in self-pity. One last hoist, Zaac was limp above her head. She threw his body down the middle pathway into the silo behind her. Opposite the main entrance is where Zaac finally stopped tumbling. He was still conscious. She took one last disappointing walk to him.

Dorian swung his meaty fist at Ulysses on last time before disarming him from his pole weapon. Old Glory. With a kick to his side, Ulysses laid flat on the ground. Dorian wiped his face clean from him blood and smiled, Ulysses was defeated and weak. He got a notification on his PDA. He pressed a button on the earpiece in his left ear. "Our task force is awaiting orders outside, mistress," he said.

"Excellent! Have them stand guard."

"Will do."

"And reset the timer."

"Of course."

The timer on her Institute watch reset back to seven minutes. Drusilla wasn't finished yet, Zaac was on his hands and knees, still alive."On your knees, clinging onto your dear life again, Zachariah?"

"No..." Zaac whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

"I can't..." he breathed. "Fuuuuuuck!" He slammed his fists into the ground, as he did, shadowy tendrils lashed and looped all around him. "I'm so sick and tired of LOSING!" He slammed his hands down again; some darkness shot at Drusilla, she would've been shredded if she didn't cartwheel to her left to narrowly avoid the loose tentacles. Over his entire body, covering him head to foot in vantablack, the tendrils were no more, and Zaac was gone, and in his place stood Auditors aspect.

A shape formed and became solid. As tall as Zaac, his exact shape. His eyes were solid gold that stood out from his pitch-black body that absorbed the light. He spoke. "You want a challenge, Drusilla?" he said is a higher pitch than his usual voice, "Then come get it." He stood perfectly still as dark flames danced around his entire body.

"Zachariah?" Drusilla lost her smile and rose to her feet slowly with caution. "What is this?"

"You want to fight a Demigod so badly? Try this one on for size!"

"Auditor..."

"Isn't this what you wanted, Drusilla? To meet your saviour?"

"I don't follow the Chaos God anymore. Verkraft is gone, and so are his believers."

"Well then, he'd want me to make an example of you then, wouldn't he, Sister Drusilla."

Drusilla didn't move for a few seconds; then she shook her head as if to wake herself up. "You don't scare me," she said, "You're not Auditor."

"You're right; I'm _worse!_ " _Make her bleed, Zachariah,_ said the voice in his head, the true Auditor, _Make her bleed for saviour._

Zaac swept his arm wide, launching a barrage of black spears, all seven missed as she darted to her left some more. A stream of shadows shot forward and cut off her dodge and had her dart to her right quickly, she saw him raise his other arm over his head with a thicker stream of shadows forming a thicker limb. A club.

He hammered down on Drusilla's back several times with heavy force, she was flat on her face and started shaking. Zaac gave her no time to spring back up on her feet, so he sent a steady stream of shadows from his fingertips to slam into her chest, lifting her off her feet and stretching her against the wall. The force alone could collapse a person's body and break their bones, but Drusilla was a Synth, and she was harder to crush under pressure. She couldn't get out of the stream of shadows pressing against her, too little resistance to fight Zaac's influence.

"You're not so tough now are you, Ashford!?"

"Mr Savage, get over here!" she screamed

Ulysses swung Old Glory across Dorian's face, he stumbled away, and Ulysses stepped in to swing again. Dorian covered the side of his face and struck the weapon from the courier's hands and struck his nose with a fierce left jab. After knocking him down with a right hook, Dorian quickly turned to Drusilla's direction.

"Mistress!"

Dorian dropped everything and ran to Drusilla's aid, leapt high into the air, throwing himself at Zaac as hard as he could, fists clenched. Zaac whipped darkness at him, columns of dark shot out, too fast to dodge. One column struck Dorian's chest, taking him off his trajectory, and twice more as he fell out of the air. Dorian tossed and turned until he hit one of the missiles in the back, he rolled down them and landed hard on his face. He growled and cursed loudly, Zaac hardly looked back.

"Auditor..." Dorian shook his head and got back on his feet. "I might have a surprise for you this time." He took the PDA from his pocket and got the task force's captain on the line. He made it so he could communicate through his two-way earpiece. With his PDA back in his jacket pocket, Dorian ripped a piece of the metal flooring. It was a sizeable piece, big enough to shield his body.

Dorian darted for Drusilla's aid and used the metal scrap to shield her and him. She was recuperating, and he was being forced back, feet slipping back away as he absorbed all of Zaac's shadows. He didn't care; it was futile to stand in the way of Necromancy but he did so anyway. "Rest easy, mistress. I'll get some backup." She said nothing. Scrunched herself on the spot behind him. "X6-88, do you copy!?" he bellowed into his earpiece.

"Orders sir?" X6-88 said, void of emotion.

"Do you have any charged ordinance?!"

"Three grenades and one arc welder sir."

Dorian was losing his footing as the metal he was holding groaned and started to cave inwards around the edges. "We need EMP hardware now!"

"Yes, sir!"

Dorian looked back at Drusilla; she stared back at him with hair in her eyes. "Hang in there, my queen," he said, "Backup is coming."

"Thank you..." she breathed.

"How are you able to do this, Wesker?!" Dorian yelled at Zaac's general direction. "You're not a Demigod anymore!"

"Auditor has bonded with me and my body for so long, even after his banishment I still feel his corruption coursing through my veins! His Aspect gives me ALL his powers at my disposal!"

"Aspect?"

The main entrance to Dorian's right just sprung open and quick footsteps began to take centre stage. X6-88 didn't have his sunglasses on, but he had a machine strapped to his back with a cannon in his hands. The arc welder. Harnesses electrical currents and uses it as a weapon. The four members stood around him with their laser rifles in hand. X6-88 threw a grenade that rolled by Zaac's feet.

With a bright blue charge of magnetising pulses of electrical energy, Zaac staggered back, and his shadow stream faded away, freeing Dorian; he took Drusilla out of harm's way to the wall behind him and safely around the corner. The task force members all open fired on Zaac with X6-88 leading the assault with the arc welder firing short bursts of blue bolts that thundered loudly in the air. Zaac retreated ever so slowly.

Dorian sat Drusilla down and brushed her hair back over her ears. She looked better now. Dusted her off and straightened her up. "That is not Auditor..."

"You know him?"

"Auditor is Verkraft's Chaos God, he was our saviour."

"Zachariah's still inside."

"Auditor's weakness is electricity… We can hurt him."

"That makes sense… I restrained Wesker back in the day with an electric taser. We put him on ice and we ran some tests. It worked well enough to defeat him later in the future, even when he was going through these __episodes__ _."_

"Wonderful. I would love to end his sad story." She exclaimed. "But we don't have any of that do we?"

"No. But the cables that run through this silo should sustain enough charge to subdue him. If we can just get close enough." He looked away around the corner to see two of his soldiers already getting torn apart by Zaac's shadows. He was being focused on well by the surviving task force members.

Darkness swarmed to Zaac's skin, filling the space behind him. Tendrils lashed out, as fast as striking cobras, impaling those who dared to flank or separate around his position. The first member that strafed to Zaac's left was lifted off his feet and paraded ahead of him as he walked after the other three that flanked to the right. X6-88 was on the very far left with the arc welder, channelling it constantly at his back. It was more than a sting.

Zaac used the first member as a shield, twisted and turned the dying Synth to shield himself from his allies. Their helpless comrade absorbed their blue beams, and Zaac's shadows instantly swarmed the shots that got by. More shadows reared up behind another member that failed to stay with his team, tried fending them off but his beams passed harmlessly through Zaac and his shadows. They swayed and feinted, waiting for the silent command to strike.

And then they struck, slicing through the member and hoisting his body up off the cold ground to join the grisly parade, and still, Zaac walked with zero effort. X6-88 threw another EMP grenade at Zaac, and it went off, blinding him and sending a horrible surge of energy through his body, a blue blur shivered through him. The bodies around him faltered, so he ripped them apart with his tendrils and chased down X6-88. Then another member made the mistake of stepping in the way.

Drusilla concluded. "I have an idea. Do Synths conduct electricity?"

"Not Gen-4. Not us. Could work with our task force members but they're dropping like flies. I might have a better idea." He cast his gaze back at her. He smiled. "I just need a distraction."

"Any suggestions?"

"In the short time I knew Auditor, he would address me as a Horseman, and I found it hard to shut him up. That is __not__ Auditor. It's still Wesker, or at least his subconscious. If he is, you might be able to bait him."

"Would that work?"

A blood-splattered limb flew at the main entrance. It was an arm; yellow liquid dribbled over the floor. The fingers were still moving, dragging itself across the floor back into the action. Persistent. "I should hope so; we're losing manpower."

"Oh, well. It's better than my idea."

"If you piss off Wesker enough, you might be able to buy me some time to make contact with the cables."

Drusilla shrugged. "I'm not gonna lie; I might enjoy being bait. Extend the time, Mr Savage."

Dorian made a small adjustment to his Institute watch. It beeped a few times and stopped. "It is done."

"Here goes nothing."

The two got up and entered the silo to catch Zaac sending shadows that flung X6-88 off his feet and put him out of commission, with the last task force member struggling with a tendril lashed around its throat. Zaac was wringing the Synth about in the air.

Dorian and Drusilla stepped in as he threw the last member at them and he sent shadow-knives to slice the body from shoulder to hip. She gasped as the member parted from himself and fell in two pieces. Yellow blood splatter over her face. Dorian wiped it off with a cloth he had in his pocket.

Limbs and other body parts were scattered all over the central platform, all stained with their fine blood. Organs and pieces of the task force members were ripped apart with brutality. On a positive note, Zaac's movements were wearing down; nervous twitches escaped his body. His neck spasmed often.

"He's weakened..."

"I didn't forget about you two!" Zaac's held out his hands and sharpened to a fine point that flew at Both Dorian and Drusilla. Each one flew at their heads and both missed. Barely. He sent a barrage of shadow-knives at an arc with a short wave of his arms. They all separated the two, Ashford ran to her left as Savage went to his right. With cat-like finesse, they leapt and scaled up and across each of the missiles like fleas.

Zaac couldn't fire at both targets at the speed they were moving. Dorian stopped over by Ulysses' and X6-88's unconscious bodies with Drusilla on the opposite side. Zaac threw his arms and lengthened and thickened them to a more massive limb and whipped everything about all around him. Drusilla and Dorian ducked out of sight, as for the body parts littered everywhere, they flew across the silo.

He brought his arms down, and shadows formed from the ceiling and dropped spears from above the Horsemen, all missed but one that pinned Dorian through his right shoulder that stuck him into one place. Couldn't move and he roared out loud. Zaac's hand fired a sharp spear that tore through the air, but not Dorian, he slid down the spear and laid flat on the floor in an attempt to avoid another spear.

Drusilla had to draw Zaac's attention away for their plans to succeed. "Wesker!" she called out. Zaac stopped his advance and glared at her. "Were you always a false God, Zachariah?"

"Shut up!" Zaac threw a small shard at Drusilla that spun past her head as she moved with the tiniest movement in her neck.

"My my, someone's a bit crabby. Would that be because you're a bit… desperate?" Zaac threw another shard at her, and she darted to her right. She scaled up the first missile to the top and looked down to Zaac. He threw a handful of shards at her, but she leapt to the next missile across and slid down to the bottom. "Or is it because you have a few… __shortcomings__ _?"_

"Shut up!" he roared.

Zaac launched two spears that struck just over her shoulders, she flinched and smiled over the sheer thrill of torment. "I won't let you get to me!" He swept both arms and let out a salvo of arrows that swept in a wide arc. She dropped down onto her belly and rolled back up on her feet, ignoring a stray arrow that struck her arm. When she pulled it out, it felt cold as ice. Like death's touch. Her arm bled yellow.

"My dear Zachariah, I wasn't even __trying__."

"Fuck you!"

"Your emotions make you vulnerable, Zachariah."

Zaac sent another black shard at her that clipped her right shoulder - bleeding again. She leapt across over the small gap and onto the platform in front of Zaac and quickly over him, narrowly missing another shard that grazed past her side.

"Like the anger you feel by the sound of my name. The mention of a mere word exposes your weakness. I saw that twitch in your eye." Zaac's right eye twitched with the reference of the word _Ashford._ It was obvious now to her.

"Fuck off!" he screeched in a higher pitch. "Stop tormenting me!"

Drusilla smiled and shuddered happily. "I can't help it. You make it so easy." She giggles. "I must be honest here; it's more fun to torture you than anyone else. That's saying a lot since I killed the Redfields without a single thought. Do you know how much fun we had after that video call, Zachariah?" Zaac didn't move; the flames around his body still danced with a red singe.

"You leave her out of-"

"There was a friendly but naive king who wed a very nasty queen," she interrupted as she sang, strangely in a heavenly tone, "The king was loved but the queen was feared. 'Till one day strolling in his court, an arrow pierced the kind king's heart. He lost his life and his lady looooove..."

Zaac roared and ran at Drusilla at full speed, no Necromancy, just running for her with a feral look in his solid gold eyes. Full zombie mode. She expected him to feel the rage consume him. "Now!" she called.

Dorian appeared from behind her as she twisted away, he had a thick metal cable that required both hands to carry. The end sparked and hissed and made contact with his vantablack skin. A powerful surge of electricity attacked his body and fully conducted all the energy. Zaac's limbs flailed about, nearly a minute later his body launched itself away towards the door. He rolled and crumpled to the ground in thriving agony. He started to bleed something red from some sore spots that formed here and there. Most likely blood.

The few lights in the silo flickered rapidly before turning off completely. It was pitch black. So dark you couldn't even see your hand in front of your face. The emergency generator started up and brightened the silo again. The lights weren't as bright, but it was only a backup in case all power went away.

Zaac stood up one last time with Auditor Aspect as Drusilla and Dorian drew their weapons. She had a large revolver, and Dorian had a gold-plated Desert Eagle. His classical favourite. They fired at him without hesitation and instead of the round passing through him; he was weak enough to take the damage.

Their weapons roared, again and again. All shots pushed him further back nearer the main door, and by the time they reloaded, Zaac fell with the shadows slowly fading away. What was left was an insignificant man with his face down on the floor, limbs stretched out. The Horsemen stood valiantly and relished their superiority.

From the very far back, Ulysses pushed himself up onto his feet and started firing at Drusilla and Dorian while their backs were turned. A long sustained burst of 12.7mm distracted Dorian; he took some hits to the chest and stumbled away. Ulysses fired a shorter burst at Drusilla, but she saw his aim waver towards her, and she was quick to react, and she took the chance to fire first. Two quick shots to Ulysses' chest disturbed his aim. Her revolver fired buckshot, so she was unable to pierce his armour. Then a figure stood behind her target with one arm raised.

X6-88 whacked Ulysses' in the back with a shock baton and his arms spread out from the sudden jolt of electricity. He turned around to fire on the Synth, but X6-88 backhanded his face before he could get a decent shot off. Two bullets fired and missed horribly.

Gunfire so deafening caught Zaac's attention. A nickel-plated Desert Eagle caught more of his eye. His sidearm. With indolent speed, he crawled to his feet and took a firm hold of the magnum. Drusilla was his first target; she wasn't looking. A bullet actually went through her right shoulder; she bled yellow. Dorian got into view, and Zaac fired another shot at him too. A bullet to his chest, Dorian was reeling back. Zaac charged forward; his sights on Drusilla again, but she was too close for him to register.

She twisted into him. Drusilla guided his gun-hand away with her left and promptly uppercut his right elbow, breaking it and bending it the wrong way. He yelled out from the snap and then she pulled his weight over her back. After a brief but powerful jerk, she threw Zaac over herself. He landed badly on his side just under the catwalk by the Horsemen missile in the far end.

Ulysses cried, out seeing his ally in peril; then he saw that X6-88 was pressing him over a small control console. He had the shock baton while he had nothing, lost his SMG in their scuffle. X6-88 was trying to strangle him until he brought Ulysses to his feet and headbutted his nose that cracked his breathing apparatus. Then swung the baton at his face and into his gut. Ulysses was brought to his knee breathless.

X6-88 grabbed Ulysses' head and tried to break his neck, strangling him obviously wasn't going to cut it. Both arms grasped around his thick neck and head, X6-88 had the benefit of being behind Ulysses while he was struggling to pry him off. Dorian recovered from the flesh wound in his chest; it was only minor and heal eventually. He picked up his magnum and fired the remaining rounds in his magazine.

He grew tired of Ulysses' resistance and fired every shot he had, scattering across his torso. Blood splattered at his feet, and he growled out with the gritty pain of the large rounds tearing through his armour. X6-88 let him drop onto his face and stood by until he was needed.

Zaac couldn't move. Broken arm. Bent the wrong way, elbow shattered. Drusilla ripped an iron pipe from the floor where the cables ran; it was sharp on one end and bent slightly on the other. It was an inch thick. She took a swing for Zaac's face while he got up slowly. Then another in the opposite direction. He cried out which was like ecstasy for her ears.

His nose was broken; everything nearby was cut up from the pipe's edge. He staggered by the catwalk but kept his grip on it. Drusilla kicked his chest, and he flew back from the recoil and landed on the sorest spot on his backside. She raised the pipe above her head and hit away at Zaac's tender body, hitting him several times while he tried to shield himself with his unbroken arm. He cried and yelped in various pitches and tones. Blood smeared over the sharp edge of her pipe after one last wallop; it was sturdier than she thought. She licked up Zaac's blood from the pipe and moaned.

"Lanius!" someone yelled out at the back.

Ulysses had Old Glory. He cracked the golden eagle across X6-88's face and sent him tumbling away and ran straight to Dorian while his back was facing him. He had the upper hand. Dorian turned around as Ulysses swung downwards and him and he just darted to the left, completely avoiding the swing Ulysses built up in his little charge.

"Next time you charge at someone," Dorian said, and punched through Ulysses' chest, tearing through his heart, "don't alert them."

Ulysses' eyes widened; his face went pale, and he growled even louder than before as his heart was destroyed inside his own chest. Dorian's fingers tickled out of his back, just past the spine. He ripped his bloody hand out of him, and Ulysses just fell on his face.

Zaac trembled under his weight, using his only usable hand to lift himself up off the floor. He caught Ulysses falling with a gaping wound in his chest. Dead. Zaac sprung to his feet and roared, swinging his broken arm at the back of Drusilla's head. It didn't have much strength, but it connected with her face as she turned around. She yelped and staggered back holding her beautiful face. After combining it with a left hook, she latched her left hand around his and placed her right behind his head and-

Zaac's face was forced into a control console, breaking it with a loud crack and fizz. He pulled out his magnum and fired and missed due to proximity. She ripped the gun from his broken fingers and backhanded his face with the gun's grip. Zaac felt to his knee, and she struck his face with his magnum. And again. And again. Blood splattered over her hands, and she left his face looking like a ruptured tomato. Only his eyes were unharmed. She decided to keep them intact. How else can they look you in the eye and kneel?

She grabbed his throat and lifted him off his feet; he was taller, so it wasn't easy. She threw his limp body to the scrapped missiles in the back behind him. He rebounded off the first missile and slumped into a pile. Then a noise that almost shattered her synthetic eardrums blared. So sudden and so abrupt. One minute left. The final countdown, too late to reset it again.

Dorian came over to Drusilla. "We're out of time, mistress," he said, "It's now or never."

"Oh, bother." Drusilla discarded Zaac's magnum and took out a white cloth from her jacket. She cleaned her hands from all the blood. X6-88 stepped over to her and Dorian.

"Mission accomplished?" he said, devoid of everything that just happened. Just like a day in the office.

"For you? Of course. Your employment with us is terminated, X6-88," Dorian said with a slight frown.

"Sir?"

Dorian waved his arm out. "Go back to the Institute; our business is done here."

"All the best for your mission sir and ma'am," X6-88 said before he went away towards the entrance without another word.

Drusilla's hands were clean enough to eat off. She pocketed the bloody rag into her trouser pocket. "He was a capable soldier," she said, "For a Synth. What will become of him?"

Dorian's eyes strayed away from the entrance to Drusilla's. "Probably lay low in the Commonwealth." He took her hand. "Let's go, mistress. We don't belong here anymore."

"Let's." He and she walked to the catwalk and got ready for their departure. Just a few steps and their new future begins. Then she overheard Zaac getting back on his feet. Slowly she might add. "Hold on." They stopped at the bottom of the steps. So close. "We can't just leave Zachariah like this..."

Dorian chuckled. "You're not going feeling pity for him are you, mistress?"

Drusilla smiled. "Not even in his dreams. But after everything we've been through, I feel as if there's more to be done. More to be said."

"There's only so much time left, my queen. I'm afraid it waits for no one. Not even us. Besides, there's only so much you can to break a human like him." _Thirty seconds._

"He just needs a finishing touch," she giggled. She let go of Dorian's hand and looked around for the bloody pipe that rolled to her feet. "A message," she added.

With the fine point of her black high-heeled shoe, she kicked up the pipe into the air and caught it with her right hand and twisted her body to throw it. The throw slowly picked up speed and was travelling at such velocity; it was as if it was launched like a projectile. The pipe flew at Zaac before he could even look up when he did his heart stopped.

The pipe's sharper edge tore through his armour, his chest and buried into his flesh and body. Piercing between his ribs, tearing through his right lung and cleaving a clean hole through his heart. The pipe wasn't finished yet; it thrust out his back and had enough energy to pin him to the middle missile, body upright.

Zaac screamed. He felt his heart burst, and it was like a supernova exploding inside him, a cascade of sensation that burned through his mind and soul. With his thoughts lit up, even in an instant, his body was due to shut down, and he knew it. Couldn't stop it. After some faint resistance, Zaac succumbed to the torment and gave up. His arm was broken as with his entire body. He failed. His eyes closed one last time. Blood dribbled down his legs into a small pool beneath his feet.

"That was the message. Don't fuck with an Ashford."

"Systems terminated, Wesker," Dorian chuckled. He took Drusilla's hand. "Shall we?"

"Please do. I'm sick of this planet."

Dorian and Drusilla walked the few steps into their tricked-out missile and the stairs sealed away into their vehicle. The thrusters hummed and vibrated loudly against the sombre sounds of the siren. Air escaped the thrusters, and after a small explosive cloud of energy, the aircraft was free to launch and parted from the silo at record speed. The doors to the silo closed over, and yet the lights stayed on, leaving the silo empty and devoid of all life.


	3. Medical assistance

Julie Farkas was working hard in her office. By office, it was her bedroom. With the flow of N.C.R. dollars sustaining the Followers, she had wages to manage the few available doctors. The victims they treated were declining over time since she was given that advanced Auto-Doc, the Nexus Incubator she recalls. Helped solved injuries that the naked eye couldn't perceive.

She descended the stairs and outside the guardhouse into the open air outside. It was getting well into the dark evening; it was cold to boot. Round 5 pm Or was it 6 pm Hard to tell. She had a clipboard handy and checked of the patients in the tents around the courtyard.

Two of the six were some stragglers that overdone their last few drinks and another four were a sick family that were liberated from a Legion slave camp. Saved by Courier Six, with help from the N.C.R. Noble. They remembered him and were very thankful.

She ruled them off and was pulled to a stop when two doctors that were caring for a drug addict they were carrying on a stretcher. The King Pacer was a known patient of hers, and his condition was flaring up again. She nodded and gently lead them to an empty tent and put the King on the single bed. With a small packet of fixer, he was getting better. The addictol she prescribed for him ahead of time is in the next delivery.

Though it seemed like she would never be out of patients, the way the world is heading now she and the rest of the Followers won't be running out of funding anytime soon. She wasn't in it for the money. Money just made it easier to save people from themselves.

The fort's doors outside suddenly opened with a loud thudding sound as if they were kicked open. She had the tent flaps sealed shut. Every patient deserves privacy. The cold air was split by a sudden scream.

"Help!" someone shouted, "We need a doctor over here!"

Julie sprung from her dull chair and swatted away the tent's flaps, looking left and right. The Follower guards steered a wounded man to find a doctor with a stretcher. She wasted no time and took the nearest one she stashed away inside an occupied tent to her left. The two doctors she passed didn't have the one they had earlier, just as they entered the scene from the east guardhouse. She handed them the one she had and helped them put the bloodied man on it. He was heavier than he looked. She helped the doctors rush him into the west guardhouse. Surgery was needed.

The medical area inside was dimly-lit, Julie flicked on the extra lights on. The medical area had a table large enough for the man and struggled to get him on, even with two extra people helping her. She barked at the doctors for some medical supplies, med-x and a doctor bag.

His face looked like an exploded tomato, and the bruising on his face was the worse she ever seen. With their surgical masks and gloves on the doctors started with the biggest problem the man was having. The iron pipe in his chest needed to be removed.

Julie never saw anything like this. General Wesker had a pipe through his lung and most likely his heart, yet he had a pulse and had his breathing under control. He was under local anaesthetic, and the surgery commenced. She used a tool that is usually used for ripping flesh to saw through the pipe. Sparks flew, and progress was made, the bent end of the pipe was sawn off with an inch to spare from Wesker's chest.

The same ripper was used to saw off the excess end protruding from his back. There were only a few sparks since this end was coated entirely in blood. Then General Wesker was able to lie down straight. The hardest part was nearing. The open-heart surgery. The ripper was too clumsy, time for the scalpel.

Julie removed his armour, and with her assistants ready, they began. It started with a ten-inch incision over the chest; his skin was like treated leather. It was tough and took some elbow grease. She peeled the flaps of skin away from the chest wall, as easily as a zipper and cut the skin around the pipe.

Julie wheeled a pre-war bypass machine she found years ago over to Zaac and flipped it on; he needed a cardiopulmonary bypass. Some people use an electric saw to get through the ribs; the ripper was adequate even though she presumed it to be clumsy.

The teeth struggled to rip into his sternum and yelled out for someone to get a ripper with stronger teeth. She severed the ribs off one by one to the last two on each side and lifted his sternum away. The pipe was untouched and rested in a generous hole it left behind just next to the pieces of bone it severed from the rest of his sternum.

A clamp kept Zaac's sternum up while his heart and lungs were there for them to see. By God, they were healthy, even if he was a smoker and a bit of an alcoholic. Her assistants connected the bypass machine to his heart and lungs to help regulate blood flow in the meantime, under careful instructions from her; she didn't want them to nick a kidney or something. She was the only one with proper experience in heart surgery.

Julie wrapped her gentle fingers around Zaac's heart and felt his soft heartbeat pulsing with the pipe still right through it as if it wasn't there. She needed to sever the pipe on both sides of his heart and pull them out from there. His back and his chest.

His skin, flesh and organs fused to the metal, becoming part of him, it was like trying to pull out a tooth or a limb from the socket. One of her assistants passed her a superheated scalpel to cut through the pipe; it was hot enough to melt it away. She needed accuracy and precision, that of which the ripper lacked.

One assistant wiped away Julie's sweat above her brows while the other managed her patient's breathing. She got in deep to cut the pipe, and held his heart in place, doing her best not to nick it, but she had to cut as much of it as possible off to get it out. After a long minute of cutting the pipe was disconnected and the assistant was able to slide it out. The the same thing had to be done on the other side.

Once there was something she didn't foresee, the leftover pipe was still through his heart. She didn't think she'd get this far in the removal. She wriggled the pipe, and it was as solid as the heart was, like it was a part of it. The heart fused with the metal and she couldn't separate them, it was too dangerous. By any means, she couldn't touch the heart knowing a single nick can end Zaac's life. She had to leave it there for the time being.

Julie smoothed down the edges of the pipe before she called it quits, a gaping hole was left in the middle, but the heart refused to let go of it. The beating and blood flow was healthy, decided not to disturb it. A compound was spread over Zaac's sternum and ribs to fuse them together; it was mostly a glue and repairing agent mixed together. A rare concoction. His ribs were fixed, and her assistant dabbed away the cold sweat from her brows.

The cavity where the pipe was wedged through was still there when she stretched his skin flaps to meet each other. The stitching wasn't the problem, the small crater it left behind from the raw damage was. The skin will heal over and thicken up where it's thinning. Zaac just has to live with the fact he has a piece of metal lodged in his heart indefinitely.

The surgery was a success; the patient was going to live. Julie thanked her assistants on a job well done and asked them to help her undress Zaac and strap him into the incubator's harness. The doors closed and a fine green liquid filled the space inside. Zaac had a breathing apparatus, and through the lime colour, he was still unconscious. Julie flicked on the terminal linked to the machine to see what else is up.

A virus was detected ravaging all over Zaac's body; the biosignature all over was the colour amber, his chest was a critical crimson colour. That was his heart damage, but Julie shrugged that off since her patient was still alive and no heartless machine could top the opinion of a top-class doctor in her field.

The yellow colour was moderate damage, the cuts scrapes and blunt trauma all over him. Those details were blatant, though under them was another problem. The virus. The incubator identified the virus as something called the Prototype virus.

Her assistants took some notes on his status while she went to her terminal to enter a private N.C.R. chat room. Colonel Moore was online, so she messaged her since she was Zaac's emergency contact. Julie could only just tolerate Moore since she is a bit of a warmonger and killer.

In the video chat, neither of them were particularly happy to see each other, but Moore folded first when she found that her husband was going to live. She thanked Julie and ended the call. She was coming over to see him.

Colonel Moore arrived within the hour with a small N.C.R. escort that waited outside the fort while she met Julie inside outside the west guardhouse. Zaac was patched up and had a plaster cast on his broken arm; he was resting in bed while Julie and Moore got to talking. Zaac got to thinking while he was slowly losing his unconsciousness. Most thoughts were serene and silent. Things took a turn for the worst.

A headache started up, and since Zaac had his eyes closed, he was able to focus. It hurt. He winced in pain as his head was beating rapidly, like a knife on a chopping board. He opened his eyes and saw a plain ceiling; then he turned around to see two doors to his left.

A short look around later and he knew it was an L-shaped corridor. He remembered this place. This was the room where Sarkis was found and he was elevated to Godhood. Rockfort Island…

Zaac passed through a double door and realised he was in a palace, a mansion or even an estate. He remembered the hall's quartz ground, red carpet that leads upstairs and the general décor. A painting at the top of the stairs that hidden a secret door.

A family portrait of the surviving Ashfords. Alexander, Alfred, Alexia and Leonard. This was not a happy place, the last time he was here he was a T-Veronica viral abomination that attacked the Redfields. This dream sequence was turning into a nightmare.

It was eerie walking up the royal stairs, felt worse when he examined the portrait. The family jewels were there, yet the door behind was hidden. Staring into the seemingly innocent faces of the twisted Ashford twins was disgusting. Alexander wasn't the worst man alive, just the preteen twins that stood aside him. Someone walked to his side while he was lost staring into the empty eyes of Alexia Ashford.

"I never asked for this," the young man said, empty of life, full of regret. Any a year or two older than Zaac and with dark brown or black hair and a thin moustache. He wore a clean lab coat with the Umbrella logo on the chest. "I am ashamed of what my family become." Zaac said nothing; he didn't recognise the man that stood to his right.

"I wanted the T-Veronica project to bring an end to pain and suffering, not to promote it..." the man continued to say. Zaac hoped he would go away, if it were all a memory, there's no reason to encourage it any further. "Beautiful portrait, isn't it?"

Zaac finally met the man's eyes. They were a nice shade of green. "I'm sorry?"

"Really captured my son's intelligent side…" The man walked down the stairs and shook his head slowly. "Where does the time go? Had everything and this is what my family's reduced to?"

"Are you a memory?"

The man stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at the floor. "Never did like this shade of colour red-"

"Who are you?" Zaac called, following the man to the double doors to the outside.

"The fifth Earl Ashford." They both stopped and looked each other in the eyes.

"Edward Ashford? The founder?"

"Guess we've never met. Of course, I remember now..." Edward rubbed his chin. "I was murdered in '68."

"If you're really him, tell me something I don't know. These are all my memories; they have to be..."

"Your grandparents first met in 1949, New York. We were all there at a pub called the Railway."

"Holy shit… you are Ashford. Why are you here?" Zaac waved his arm out. "Why am I here? What's going on?"

"I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the trauma you were put through. I'm just a figment of your imagination, but at the same time, you heard of me enough to uncover my likeness. Damaged memories are trying to heal your shattered thoughts.

"I can understand the wisdom, but why you?"

"I'm here to convince you not all Ashfords are bad to the bone. Your subconscious must've chosen me to ease your mind since you didn't completely despise Alexander nor me."

"What's the point? You all had your time and moved on. That's how it happens. Humans grow old, and the die. Now there's just the one Ashford left and… She's gone..."

"And so goes your chance for revenge. There are more important things to worry about than a long overdue vendetta that is completely one-sided. You must realise that."

"I know… she's someone else's problem now. But it will take more than an impression of a man I never met to convince me to let go so easily. She wiped out my family for fuck's sake!"

Edward frowned. "As did Lord Spencer with my friends, his friends and the founders. Do I blame him? Maybe… But an end comes to us all, as an ex-Demigod, you know how much of that is true. You were fine the day before."

"I was wasn't I?" Zaac chuckled. "Now I have a new family, a new leash and something different to fight for. I'll spend the rest of my life not knowing if she'll ever get what's coming to her."

"Since she's the broth of the Ashford family, I suspect she'll make enough enemies that can and will eventually end her."

"What can I do about it, is what I'm asking?"

"Nothing. Just nothing. You're a complicated man; the quickest way really wasn't an option. You're just gonna have to deal with the slow path to recovery. As if it never happened."

Zaac sighed, he knew he couldn't continue his rage since Drusilla and Dorian were gone forever. "It did, and it left me scarred."

"Then you'll have to open up and talk about it with other people than just yourself. You can't keep bottling up your emotions. It worked last time, barely, but the fire is reignited, you have to hide it all away again or just suck it up and deal." Edward turned away and held the door's polished knob. It was gold. "I started the T-Veronica project to make a cure that would kill and command lesser ailments. A holy grail. It would kill cancer, diabetes and even dementia. Then everyone just tore my project apart."

Edward reared his head back to Zaac who was looking a bit glum. "On behalf of I, Sir Edward Ashford, and my son Alexander Ashford, I am truly sorry for the pain my family had inflicted upon you. I am deeply disappointed with my project that brought harm to others as opposed to healing them."

"Right..." Zaac murmured. "Because all the founders had noble intentions until… shit happened. Right?"

"Aye. The Ashford twins were a mistake, one I'll never live down. Although, your road to recovery isn't over yet. I was just doing what I can with the time I got. The worst part is coming."

"My memories are going to bring up bad ones?"

Edward shrugged. "The human brain is complicated like that. It will do what's best for you to move on and forget about your pain and suffering."

"It can try with this therapy bullshit. What your great-great-granddaughter did to me is something I will _never_ forget."

"Oooh boy, you're going to regret those words son." Edward opened the doors, and Zaac saw nothing past it, just solid black. Edward disappeared into nothing, and Zaac was alone. He turned around to see a woman stood before him in casual wear. Her hair was a sweet mix of brown and red.

"Claire..."

"Hello honey," she said in a voice that hadn't aged a day since they first met.

"You're my memories of Claire, aren't you?"

Claire smiled. "Give or take. In your weakened state, we're all here to help you."

Zaac's open mouth dropped ever so slowly. "We?"

Another woman stood by Zaac. A short-haired one with warm red hair, wearing a wooly beige turtleneck cardigan. As old as Claire. Her voice was soothing and full of love. Her eyes glistened green as opposed to Claire's blue.

"Mother?" he cooed.

The woman Zaac knew as his mother Cassandra Wesker smiled. Like a true mother. "Hello, Son." She checked him out head to toe. "My my, you've grown."

"Mom. I… I can't believe this..." Zaac's eyes couldn't decide who to focus on; both women were ones he profoundly loved.

"Let me convince you." Claire kissed Zaac on the lips, just how he likes it.

Zaac let go of Claire. Cassandra rubbed his shoulder, and he buried his face in her arms, clutching her like a crying child. He missed the feel of her favourite cardigan and the smell of her hair. Smelt like strawberries.

"Are you convinced, honey?"

"That you're a manifestation of my shattered memories and your likeness? Yes."

"We're here to help you move on with the pain, Son."

Zaac peeled away from his mother. "What pain? Losing to Ashford? That is something I can do on my own."

Cassandra shook her head. "You're lying to yourself. We're here to give you a fresh perspective."

"How can that help? Mother, you were out of the picture long before any of this happened."

"I wasn't Zaac," Claire murmured. "Even though I'll never forget the pain Drusilla put me through on that horrible day, I accepted the fact that I only had five years left at the very least. Not only you would outlive me or us by thousands of years thereafter since you were a Demigod, but we are also at peace with the blessing of time we had with you in our natural lives."

"That _was_ a crutch of Godhood. I can live thousands of years alone, but I only hope you had a happy life, my love."

"I just want you to be happy too, Zaac," Claire smiled. She brushed her hair. "Do what you have to do to be happy and healthy. I had my time, and I died happy, in pain, but it was still a successful life I had."

"Our family deserved better."

"That's not up to us to decide that. What's done is done."

"I know. I just can't let it end this way."

Cassandra sighed. "Then that's your weakness, and it always will be unless you be the bigger man and deal."

"Same old Zaac," Claire murmured. She and Cassandra walked away to the double doors, and Claire opened them and disappeared into the emptiness. Zaac still held Cassandra's hand and wouldn't let her leave.

"Mother, please… Don't leave me."

"I never left you for a second; I'll always be in your heart and memories."

"I wish we had more time together, Mother."

"Me too, baby." Cassandra held his hand with hers and rubbed them. "To think what things could've been if I was around to keep your father in line. A happy family. I heard you forgave him."

"Yes, I did. Would you?"

"Even during the child-killing psychopath phase? Yes, yes I would. He was a loving man before Umbrella, one that loved, but if none of that were to have happened, things would have played out differently."

"I just wonder what could've been. All of us together as a happy family, living in Raccoon. Without Umbrella. Without murderous assholes. Just us five..."

"Right now, my Son, you need to do something for yourself and let go."

"Sorry?"

Cassandra let go of his hands had reached for the doors, yet he still held her right hand with his left. "Let go and begin again."

"I love you! Don't go… Please!"

Cassandra lowered her head and shook it sadly and lost her smile. "One day, we'll be reunited, just not today. See it to the end, and things will end for the better."

"How can you be so sure? How can _I_ be so sure?"

"All good things start with the right woman. As did your father, and his before him."

"The right woman?"

"You need to let go..." Zaac's grip on her hands faltered. "...and begin again." Cassandra walked into the dark outside, and she was gone, he was left hanging.

"Mom..."

Silence filled the estate and blood trickled from the walls and doors. A loud cackle broke the silence; it was a woman behind him. More bad memories were revealing themselves. It felt colder all around Zaac, his spine shivered.

Coming down the stairs were two women. One dressed in skin-tight black overalls with medium copper hair that went below the shoulder. The other had long blonde hair and wore a flawless purple dress that could easily be confused with a robe. They shared the same mocking smile and walked like they were both royalty. As they should, they were the first and fourth Countess Ashford.

"This is a pleasant surprise, as the spider said to the fly," the blonde woman said with an admittedly soft but deceiving tone of voice.

"I agree, my queen," the other woman clarified. "This little soiree is most unexpected."

"What a bloody surprise," Zaac growled. "Drusilla and Alexia here in my mind. Here to torment me again?"

Alexia and Drusilla stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Alexia smiled and rested her elegant hand under her chin. "Maybe. Maybe not," Alexia said, "As you heard from my grandfather, we're only made of a mixture of your memories and how you perceive our likeness."

"This can only go one of two ways, Zachariah," Drusilla added. "You deal with the facts and move on, or your mind will be forced to increase the tempo. Even your brain can't be stupid enough to continue our feud, and it's practically _begging_ you to let go to save itself."

"Can't you at least appreciate the fact that our natural lives have ended during our prime? You outlived both of us, and our tyranny ended as quickly as they started. Isn't that enough?"

"The Redfields killed my queen; I avenged her and I met my end on that fateful day. We all got our comeuppance, and you need to let it go. Who cares if there's a homicidal Synth lollygagging about, Dorian Savage said that Synths have their own sentient thoughts, in any luck that Synth masquerading as me will have a hard time coping with my complex thoughts and emotions." She threw out her arm. "It's out of your control anyway so… why care?"

Zaac rubbed his head, massaging his forehead and hear. "This is insane," he groaned, "I'm arguing with myself."

"Then deal with it," Alexia demanded.

"He might need more convincing, my queen."

Alexia huffed. "He was never the brightest worker I commanded. He's a bigger failure here as he was under Veronica's control in this very room."

"Ah, I wish I was there to see the beauty-"

"You turned me into a monster; you have no right being here!"

"Let go then."

"How!?"

"We need to go in deeper," a man said in his husky Russian voice to Zaac's left. The man known as Victor Romanov - Mr House - was striding up to Zaac, and looked as he last remembered him. Not as a corpse, as a tall man. Over a hundred years or so old, wearing that thick trench coat and sporting that long straggly black beard.

The man next to him wore a weathered yellow trenchcoat with a Nazi logo strapped over his right forearm. His hair was solid grey, and his wrinkles were as deep as Victor's. Zaac never met the man in person, but he saw the pictures and knew who it was. The two Horsemen stepped into the fold.

"Otherwise the pain will commence," the German said with a slight maniacal tone. It was Death. Edward Richtofen.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Zaac said sarcastically. "Famine, Death and War. Will I be expecting Conquest anytime soon?"

"You called?" a man said to Zaac's right.

The timing was perfect. Dorian Savage walked on over into the slowly-forming circle of monsters and even brought a friend. His old employer, his creator. Oswell Spencer looked like he's seen better days. Old man robe with little to no hair left on his wrinkled head. He didn't have life support or his wheelchair with him. They stood opposite Victor and Richtofen.

"Isn't this nice?" Drusilla said with a small chuckle, breaking the awkward silence you could cut with a knife. Richtofen and Victor stared at each other and grunted in acknowledgement. "My father decided to join us."

"Indeed he has, Drusilla," Alexia chuckled lightly. "The Horsemen of the Apocalypse, a useless old man and me - a child prodigy."

"I have nothing to say to you Ashfords," Dorian said without his signature smirk. Zaac remembered him as he was. Middle-aged, dark-haired and crisp black suit. Hates the Ashford and Weskers. Good. He was his usual self.

"We're manifestations of Mr Wesker's fears and weaknesses. And to beat them, he must face us," Spencer said in his rumbling old voice that wasn't used enough. Zaac closed his ears with his hands and tried to drown out their voices, but it made no difference; he was trapped in his own mind.

"Shut up!" Zaac yelled.

"To move on and leave the past buried," Alexia added.

"I GET IIIIIIIIT!" Zaac roared aloud. He threw out his arms and darted to each of his foes. "For fuck's sake, I get it!" He calmed down a bit and lost his shouting temper. "I need to move on. I want to, but I don't know how!"

"Then turn around, Zachariah," Drusilla asked.

"What?"

Zaac heard the hammer of a handgun click behind him. "Turn around, Son. That's what she asked," a man said behind him. Always with these manifestations and sudden arrivals. What's next. Zaac turned his head to the double doors.

Albert Wesker held his family Colt to Zaac's head; he froze and dared not to move. Wesker had a plain black shirt and trousers on. Plus his sunglasses. "You want to let go and begin again, yes?" he said in that nefarious voice he loved to hate, "Then let me do exactly what you did to me."

Zaac couldn't be bothered to put any effort in smiling or sharing any emotion. Anything at this point lacked sense. "And what did I do to you?" Zaac asked.

"Reminded me who I was." Wesker held up his left hand and shown Zaac the gold ring on his finger. "You believed in me when no one else would, and I'm here to help you in return. For forgiving me..."

"How?" Zaac whimpered. "It's all I apparently want, but I don't know how to… I can't leave these dreadful, shattered memories."

"Face your fears and erase them," Wesker said in the nice smirk. He eased the grip of his Colt and let Zaac take it from his hands.

"Is it healthy?"

"It's this way or the highway." Wesker lowered his arms and folded them. "Seven shots, what you do with them is up to you, Son." He smiled, like the ones lost in the ages.

Zaac aimed his gun at Richtofen to his left. "Like this?"

"No," Wesker snapped. "Give yourself a genuine reason to forget, or it won't work."

"Okay..." Zaac stared at the golden W in the Colt's rubber grip. It felt right a home in his hands. "This is for stealing the Nexus and causing the Nexus Incident. Tearing my son away from his family and me!" Zaac fired, and the memory of Richtofen disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Zaac stretched his arm over and pointed at Spencer. "This is for Raccoon, and the years after. Ruining my career and killing my men!" A shot was fired, and Spencer disappeared in more puffs of smoke. Zaac twisted around and held out his gun-hand and aimed for Victor. "This is for Operation: Beverly and your tyranny. Scaring people and jeopardising my Demigodhood!"

Wesker smiled and enjoyed seeing Zaac's anger flourish in front of him. More importantly, he enjoyed seeing him put a bullet in each of his enemies. Though they just poofed into smoke rather than slumping into a bloody pile, it was adequate to feel a bit satisfied.

Zaac snarled and aimed for Alexia's smug face. "This is for the pain you caused Claire. Turning me into one of your horrible experiments!" Drusilla flinched when a bullet passed by her and ended the queen that stood by her. She couldn't do anything about it, she was his memories, and whether she liked it or not, that wasn't the case.

Dorian Savage was next. "This is for everything you did in Umbrella, the Legion and the Institute you fucking desk jockey!" Dorian smiled and shared the same level of joy as Wesker did. Gave into the anger. "More importantly, this is for Ulysses and my son… My son David!" Dorian's likeness was no more and dissipated along with his smile as the bullet split through his chest.

"Guess that just leaves you and me, Zachariah," Drusilla cackled. "What good reason do you have to erase me for? This will be exciting." She giggled. "Should I take notes?"

"Save it, Dru," Zaac calmly asked. "I don't care. Claire is in a better place now and what's done is done. Am I happy? Hardly, but I'm not miserable either. I can teleport, I have a new wife and kids, and it's high time I start living again." Drusilla lost her smile. "You think you've broken me. The fact is, you did, like two hundred years ago. I got another eighty in my new life, and you're living an empty life inside a Synth. You beaten and broke me, but in the end, Claire is happy with the rest of our family, and I am comfortable where I am in the Mojave. I'm still alive, and as David said, Ashford hasn't won yet, and you never will."

"You… You insolent nobody!" she yelled suddenly. Everyone except her was smiling now and enjoyed her little outburst. "I killed you, and I won. Your family is dead, and there is nothing you can do about it!"

"I know, so I decided not to care anymore since it's out of my power. As I said, I have kids and a wife now, and there's nothing you can do about that."

"I can come back and kill you all!"

"The weak barrier around our solar system is a one-way trip. You… well, _she_ would be lost amongst the stars if she ever tried to come back. Pass through it once, and the Nexus particles will bar you from going through it again. She'll have the same problem we're having with Mister Torgue."

"You made that up!"

"Did I? Well, she should stop her plans to hunt for vaults and prove me wrong," Zaac dared. "Drusilla's only a Synth, and if she wants another go at me, I invite her to try."

"She will kill you!"

"She killed herself long ago, and for her information, I was at my worst every time she beat me. So what does that say?"

"There was a friendly but naive king who wed a very nasty queen," she interrupted as she sang, strangely in a heavenly tone, again, "The king was loved but the queen was feared. 'Till one day strolling in his court, an arrow pierced the kind king's heart. He lost his life and his lady looooove..."

Zaac felt his hands clench tight and ready to start punching, but all his rage and anger just wasn't motivated enough. He sighed and looked around. He felt nothing. "You done? Anything else you'd like to say, Drusilla?"

"Y… You finally got it. You let go."

"Good. This is for all the people you killed during the Great War, Dru. The families you tore apart, and for the people you tormented. As a whole, this is for wiping out humanity and killing my family… This… this is my revenge!" Zaac fired, and Drusilla faded away into nothing. She went away as she always does, with a huge grin and not a single care in the world. Zaac lowered his aim, and his shoulders sagged. "I feel… a hundred times better now. Calm. Serene."

"Then it is done," Wesker said. Zaac stepped to him with a small slouch and raised his Colt to their waist level. "One bullet left, Son. What will you do with it?"

"There's you."

"Ah, but how will you ever leave this coma?"

"I'm in a coma?"

Wesker shrugged. "Just because you're a protohuman like me doesn't mean we're impervious to comas." He chuckled, "I'm not a bad memory, am I? I died as I lived, a genuine person. Everything in between was entirely different."

"When you sound like that you almost make me want to shoot you. The people you killed…"

"You helped me remember who I was. Sure I was a psychopath and tried to kill you and your friends, but deep down something kept stopping me… I felt something I thought was lost. I can hurt you here and there, but never kill you."

"You did in 2009 just over Mount Everest. You didn't stop then."

"I was adjusting… After all the grief, you still showed me respect and chivalry. I can never begin to redeem myself, if I want to, I'm not sure. But you never gave up on me, and now I will return your favour."

"How?"

"Shoot yourself and find out."

"That'll kill me!"

"Will it? I'm not a bad memory, and you have one shot left. Could shoot me and be marooned here for God knows, or maybe take the chance to let go. Your choice. This is as easy as it gets."

"Shoot you and I could be stuck here, or gamble and shoot… myself…?"

"If you go with the latter, there's a surprise waiting for you on the other side."

"If I die, I'll never forgive you."

"Better than being stuck in a coma..."

Zaac brought his Colt to his right temple and was hesitant to pull the trigger. He thought about it more than someone should, but this time he actually wanted to try it. If it means he can leave, then so be it. He pulled.

Zaac woke up again with a brief jerk that shivered his body. He saw wooden boards above out his left eye; his right eye was covered by a patch. His right arm was broken, the body was badly tenderised and fatigued everywhere. Bandages and patches covered his battered body, but the best part of it all was the fact he was alive.

The life-support system next to him was calming the mood, and he felt like he was ready to begin his healing. His mind was clear, and he felt better. Then he opened his right hand. His family Colt was there, in perfect condition. It was lost to the ages and now it's here.

"Our pride and joy. Thank you… Dad," he murmured. Zaac closed his eyes and took a well-earned rest until someone calls for him. He was sure he was at the Mormon Fort or some other place of healing.

Staring at the ceiling can only go so far, Zaac doesn't know the time. The guardhouse was dark, and the single bulb above started to buzz. There were voices outside, two women. He listened closely and heard his wife walking to his doctor. It was hard to ignore them; his hearing was too good.

Outside the door, Colonel Moore was talking to Julie Farkas; she didn't even get all the blood off her coat. Moore had two Veteran Rangers escorting her and slowly secured the entire fort. "How is he, Doctor?" she asked.

"I don't know how but his condition is stable. He's more than lucky to be alive."

Moore let out a breath of air and felt better. "Thank goodness."

"Colonel, the state of your husband when he arrived, was something I never seen," Julie admitted. "The amount of damage far exceeded anything I handled before."

"Why should you?" Moore said curtly. "I don't expect the Followers to have the patience and tools for something as complex as an operation. No offence, but this isn't what the Followers are used to. It's not exactly their element expertise."

Julie tried to stay calm and kept her tone humble and honest. It was easier said than done. "Though we educate to heal people as opposed to killing them, Colonel, I have to agree," she softly said. Moore knew what she meant and shown her disapproval with a short curl of her upper lip. "The Followers have hardly any experience in open-heart surgery and have diminutive opportunities to learn from them. As the only surgeon general, I am the only one qualified to perform these dire operations."

"How bad was Zaac when he arrived, Doctor?"

"Let's see…" Julie looked down on her faithful clipboard on further details. "I for one don't understand how he survived with such a large cavity in his heart, but the blunt trauma all over his body and the few broken bones will just heal over time. He's in a coma right now, and by the time he wakes up, he should be back to his usual self."

"You never mentioned a coma." Moore sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I don't know what to do with myself if something was to happen to him, Doctor. I know he can be over his head sometimes and make… wrongful decisions, but I love him because he cares for his people."

"He's truly an inspiration to us all. Although, his heart wasn't the only problem I had with him, Colonel. When I put him in our incubator, we found he was infected with a virus."

"Is it dangerous?"

Julie sighed. "I'm not sure. When it comes to things the machine discovers, I go to the one who manages it to find out what I'm dealing with. Unfortunately, that manager is in a coma. I think that virus did something to him, something that kept him from dying of his wounds."

"He's broken bones before-"

"How many men walked three days with an iron pipe through the heart, Colonel?"

Moore gulped. "That should've killed him."

"He isn't human."

"I'll take your word for it, Doctor. I just hope he didn't do something stupid to himself. How long will he be in a coma for?"

"It won't be permanent, thank God, but I'm not sure when he'll regain consciousness. I think it's best if he just stays that way for now because not only he suffered critical wounds, I fear he may be psychologically damaged."

"Are you telling me he needs therapy now?"

"That's only a possibility. I noticed he had some estranged emotions when I treated him, after the loss of his son David; I'm only recommending some therapy because I want him to be healthy."

Moore thought long and hard in silence. Julie was feeling a bit impatient and fondled her pen and clipboard. "Will you be treating him?"

Julie smiled. "I'll do what I can. I still have his file."

Moore waved her hand low and shown a tiny smile. "Please do. Zaac will make it worth your while."

"I'm not in it for the money, Colonel."

"Then I will consider it a personal favour, Doctor. Anything you want from the N.C.R. and I'll do everything in my power to grant it."

"Will you stay?"

"Yes. I'll wait as long as it takes."

"The good thing is he could wake sooner than expected, but we can't force it."

"I want to see him."

"Follow me, Colonel. I warn you, it's not pretty."

Zaac was resting on a medical bed, covered in clean bandages across his naked torso. His right arm had a medical brace, and there were even bandages over his face. Only his mouth and left eye were visible, and his mouth had the life-support on. He was stitched well, not a drop of blood was on him. Julie was the one covered in Zaac's blood over her chest and sleeves.

Moore covered her mouth. "Oh my God, he looks worse than I thought."

Julie closed the door behind Moore and frowned. "He's certainly seen better days, unfortunately."

"What could've done this to him?"

"Hopefully he is well enough to tell us." Julie stepped to Moore and placed her gentle hand on her shoulder. "The coma isn't permanent; he can wake at any time."

Moore brushed Julie's hand off her and held Zaac's hand. "Zaac, you awake?"

Moore shook him, and he was still asleep. Zaac whipped his head around and roared, " _Boo!"_

Julie and Moore shrieked, and Zaac painfully laughed, like it was the funniest thing he ever seen. Moore glared at him, and his laughing was turning a bit hysterical. Zaac propped himself up on his unbroken elbow and sat up. He moved away the life-support apparatus from his mouth and set it aside.

Zaac cackled. "Psychologically speaking or not, that _was_ funny."

Julie patted her chest and took a breath. "Good, you're awake."

"Could have done without the jumpscare, to be honest..."

"How are you feeling, Zaac?" asked Julie.

"Like a million bucks," Zaac said clearly, "My mind and body is aching up something awful."

"Are the painkillers working?"

Zaac scoffed lightly, in a nice way. "Barely. I'm not in agony anymore, so that's a bonus. Thanks for that."

Julie raised her clipboard and took some extra notes. "How's the arm?"

"The feeling is coming back as we speak."

Julie made sure to write that down. "As long as you don't move it, we shouldn't have any problems. I did what I could, and I'm glad to know you're not suffering anymore."

"Speak for yourself."

"What happened over there, Zaac," Moore asked. After some silence Zaac had frowned, she pulled out a plain chair to sit by him to hold his hand. "You already told me your secrets. I just want to know what happened to you."

"Oh, Cassandra."

"General, you're safe now. We just want to help."

"If you saw what I've experienced you'll understand why I'm a bit hesitant to accept therapy."

Julie looked up from her clipboard. "You knew?"

"I heard you both talking outside."

"Oh."

"I couldn't help it, Julie, you were too loud for me to ignore. On another note, I'm not sure if I want to talk about what happened."

"It's N.C.R. business to know what happened to you, Zaac. You can't just bottle this up. I need to know."

Julie stepped closer, now stood right by Moore's left side. "General, you walked three days with an iron pipe wedged through your heart and sternum. Don't you think that deserves a rational explanation? Something to do with a virus perhaps..."

Zaac held his breath and let go of it quickly. "You put me in the incubator, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. I still need practice."

"Zaac, the way Julie described your condition I almost broke down in tears." Her small smile faded away. "I… never seen you so hurt before and I need answers. Starting with the Institute."

Zaac huffed under his breath. "Fine. For the record, what I say stays in the room. What I experienced at Ulysses' Temple is something I want to be forgotten."

Moore's smile returned. "Of course."

"Okay." Zaac glanced to Julie. "It began a few days ago when Ulysses' contacted Colonel Moore and I about the Institute suddenly arriving in his Temple," Zaac said, frowning heavily. "He told us what the problem was at the time and then… Legate Lanius was mentioned." He stared back at Moore, and she already lost her small smile again. "I took some extreme measures in case those rumours were true, and it turned out he was alive, but not in the way I remembered."

"Meaning?"

"He was a new Gen-4 Synth, only with the mind and likeness of Lanius. He was the man in the footage. After I found him, the unknown woman arrived at the scene and… I was able to identify her. The woman… The woman was Drusilla Ashford, the fourth Countess Ashford."

"Who?" Julie said slowly.

"The woman who caused the Great War… The Horseman, War."

"The same bitch," he confirmed. "I found the same bitch that wiped out my family and the bastard that killed my David, both within the silo." Moore felt his hand grip tighter, in his state though; it wasn't firm. His tone faltered, he continued brittlely, "They… tortured me, verbally and emotionally…"

"She's supposed to be dead," Moore added. She looked to Julie and back at Zaac. "Right?"

"I… I don't know when, but Lanius found her mind while he was still working for the Institute. He uploaded it onto a blank Gen-4 Synth, thus bringing her back."

"Of course," Moore growled, rubbing her forehead and nearly gnashing her teeth. "The only thing I can agree with the Brotherhood on is the usage of Institute Synths. They're bloody abominations!"

Zaac sighed. "The last I ever saw of Drusilla was when I lost control and threw everything at her moments before the War started," he said. He sat forward and pulled off the bandages over his face, despite Julie trying to stop him. The damage over his face was gone, he had his good looks back in all their health. "My age slowed me down, and she used that to her advantage. Forced me into exile after my defeat. Even as we speak, she has Lan… Dorian Savage helping her."

"If only we knew. I would've sent an army of Rangers-"

Zaac let go of Moore's hand and brushed it aside with a gentle wave. "I witnessed this woman slaughter over a dozen of my best members and twice as much of the local authorities without a sweat. Dorian's rap sheet is smaller than hers, but we all heard the stories of Legate Lanius from the Legion and most of it is true – the worst ones." He turned his head away with his back resting against the wall. "It's a suicide mission even the Dead Men wouldn't survive," Zaac finally murmured.

"Dead who?"

Zaac snapped his head back to Moore and darted his eyes quickly. "Moving on…"

"Right… Does any of this involve the Institute?"

"No. Dorian and Dru were orchestrating everything themselves. The Institute had nothing to do with this."

"That's the first." Moore stood up. "It's good to see you're back to your usual self, Zaac."

"I agree," Julie said behind Moore. "Your face healed up nicely." Julie walked to a tabletop on the other side of the room and rifled through some papers left there next to some empty jars and beakers.

"What were these two monsters planning anyhow?"

"They were using Ulysses' scrap missiles to craft a vessel to leave the solar system. I didn't know they had the knowledge, but they were successful. They tricked out a nuclear missile and vacated the planet."

"They're… gone?" Zaac nodded without a change of frown. "Will they be a problem?""

"No…" Zaac said unsure and slowly. "They're someone else's problem now."

"Sounds like there's nothing to be done now." Moore sighed. "If only we knew what you were up against. I can't begin to imagine what they put you through."

"Don't worry about it too much, Cassandra," Zaac said, smiling as if nothing was wrong, "It was hard at the time, but while I sat in that coma and slipped slowly into madness, I had time to think and talk to myself properly."

"Julie thinks you need therapy."

"I know. That's a good one."

"I'm serious, General," Julie said from across the room; she was looking through some documents with her back facing the two. She had some reading glasses on.

Zaac looked at Julie's back. "Oh, I know that Julie, but you don't need to. I was able to sort myself out."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just am. No one knows more about me than myself-"

"That shouldn't be the case," Julie interrupted with a sigh of grief. "People need to vent… to express their problems to get better."

"I'll prove it by recalling everything that happened over at Ulysses' Temple."

"Please do Zaac," Moore said lightly. "This business needs to be wrapped up."

Zaac slowly reared his head back to Moore. "Okay. Dru, Dorian and I got to talking at first," he said loud enough for Moore and Julie to hear clearly. Julie wasn't reading anymore and inched her head closer to his words, "then before I knew it, we were at each other's throats. Drusilla kicked my ass again, Dorian kicked Ulysses' ass, and after he died I got mad and kicked both of their asses…"

"Wait. Ulysses is dead." Zaac nodded. "That's… a damn shame," Moore sighed.

"What set me off is something Drusilla did. She got cocky and said something to me, a combination of words she used before the War that made me lose my mind."

Zaac frowned heavily after reminiscing the last time he heard those words she said. The first time just before she killed Chris and Claire Redfield and again before the Great War killed her and left him dead, buried and forgotten. Exiled. Alone. Scared.

Zaac continued speaking with his modulated otherwise sad tone of voice, "The words she used were the ones her grandmother used to scar me long ago in 1998. They made me go feral and hurt the people I love, although I was able to resist the rogue nature, I lost my mind and acted like an animal. They preyed on that to win. Me losing my foresight and acting on pure aggression."

"She has a trigger word on you?"

"That's how she beat me every time we faced; it unleashed my primitive and feral instincts."

"That's why we need to talk, General," Julie said across the room again in her gentle voice. She was rifling through her drawers now, looking for something that wasn't there. "The fact you have a trigger is a problem. If you get triggered in the wrong place or the wrong time, it will spell trouble for everyone around you."

Zaac gave Julie a cold look with his squinting eyes, his solid gold eyes that could charm a woman on its own. "I doubt anyone could say any words that would replicate or mimic the words a British noblewoman, if they could, I will eat my hat and retire."

"But-"

"I don't want to hear it! I am fully confident that anger inside of me has passed."

Julie turned around with a different clipboard and leant on her tabletop. "Just like that?"

"Yes, Julie. The pain and misery the Ashfords left me is gone now. I didn't sit in that coma for show, it was there for me to heal, and that's what it did."

"You can't just bottle up and hope for the best damn it!" Julie cursed, almost loudly and not like her caring self. "Triggers are no mere inconveniences." At this point, Moore assumed Zaac and Julie were arguing like an old married couple. Kinda reflects on how she and Zaac have their fair share of quarrels.

"I bottled up things before. This isn't like the last sessions we had over Tandi and David; this is something completely different. Something I had to do personally." Julie had nothing good to say because he sounded sure. "I'll prove it to you right here and now by telling you my trigger word."

Julie folded and pointed her finger at Zaac. "You must not," she said with a strident tone, "that isn't wise, General."

Zaac threw his Colt to Julie, and she caught it with her right hand after a short fumble; her thumb ran down the golden W on the rubber grip. It was beautiful in her soft hands. He knew giving Julie some peace at mind with his gun equipped. She wasn't entirely convinced.

"No tricks this time, I'm convincing you whether you like it or not."

"This is not how triggers should be helped," Julie breathed. "I… I can't just shoot you..."

"That's for your protection, if I go in the slightest way insane and try to harm either of you."

"We shouldn't take the risk-"

"I'm telling you anyway."

Julie stepped forward. "No!"

"There was a friendly but naive king who wed a very nasty queen," Zaac sang in a slight feminine style, almost mimicking Alexia's berceuse lullaby.

Moore reached for her 12.7 handgun in her holster and took a stance with Julie. "The king was loved but the queen was feared," Zaac continued to sing, majestically, "'Till one day strolling in his court, an arrow pierced the kind king's heart. He lost his life and his lady love..." He took a deep breath. "For something that once triggered me, I don't feel it working anymore. The words almost mean nothing to me now."

Julie lowered Zaac's gun as did Moore with hers, Julie didn't know what to say. "That was a stupid idea, even for you Zaac!"

"It worked, didn't it? You believe me now, Julie?"

Julie sighed. "This isn't how people should deal with trigger words-"

"But it worked, didn't it?"

Julie huffed. "Maybe, for now."

"Wonderful. I'll have my gun back, and we can wrap things up-"

"The virus," Julie blurted softly.

"Ah… There's that."

Julie pressed her reading glasses closer to her eyes and read from the clipboard she was holding. "In the time of you were incubated, in time I discovered you were infected with a virus. Care to explain?"

"In my defence, it was a last minute decision," Zaac stuttered slightly, looking to Moore. "Cassandra, when Ulysses first mentioned Lanius, we brushed it off, but deep down I was bloody stress volcano."

Moore's time to sigh. "All the rumours you hear are always true. What I want to know is the 'decision' you made."

Zaac gave his smallest of shrugs. "I wasn't sure what to expect after Ulysses' call, the Divide is a dangerous place, and talk of Lanius wasn't making it easier. He single-handedly killed David, who was in heavy power armour." Zaac's golden eyes flushed, and he almost looked like he was going to burst into tears, but he held strong and continued, "Rather than send good people on a suicide mission, I did what was necessary and injected myself with the virus."

"I… I can't believe you could be so… stupid!" Moore growled, slapping Zaac's left foot in frustration. He winced under her heavy slap.

"If anyone can put the Horsemen down it's _me!_ It's better me than anyone else-"

Moore was ready to argue with her husband. "You have no idea how important you are to the N.C.R. and the people! If you showed any responsibilities, you would understand the fact that soldiers are replaceable! Not you."

"We are not talking about my choice of leadership, Colonel-"

"Look at you! You're killing yourself!" Moore practically yelled. "This isn't me talking to you as a colonel, this is me nagging to you as your wife, and what you did is beyond irrational!" Her voice and tone softened up a bit as her stance weakened.

"Human life is sacred-"

Moore interrupted Zaac's little whimper. "And yours isn't?" she said with a wave.

"Your wife has a point, General," Julie tried to say.

Everyone ignored the doctor. "I'm just doing my job, Cassandra. The job I was born with. To protect and serve." _Yeah, and how many times did that work out for you?_ "If you don't like that then I'll relocate back to the Capital. After all, you and General Oliver can manage things here so well without me..."

Julie stepped forward and tried to get the lovers attention. It worked with a little wave. "May I butt in?"

Zaac blinked several times and shook his head. "Of course you can."

Julie placed Zaac's handgun on the bed next to his leg. Never liked killing if it couldn't be helped. "General, your selfless gestures always have good intentions, but you must realise that you are contaminated with a virus that we are concerned about. You're infected with something and-"

"Don't either of you worry about the virus, I know what I've done. It just means I have to make another virus to sustain me."

Julie's eyes widened. "Sustain? Is it dangerous?"

"In the wrong hands, yes. I only made the decision because the benefits outweigh the negatives. I just need weekly doses of this other virus."

"Could I make you a prescription?"

Zaac smiled. "Sure. That will take a load off my mind. Please do, Julie."

"What 'benefits' does this virus have to offer?" Moore mumbled.

"Well, it did its job and kept me from dying. Apart from superhuman senses, I have a stronger metabolism, nothing much else."

"I need full details if you want me to make you weekly doses."

"Will do."

"Why didn't you consult me before you injected yourself?" Moore whined. "We're married."

"I did it for me mostly. I can't afford to die, not when I have so much to do and so much to give. The next time I die, I won't be coming back. I done it as a failsafe."

"You were scared?"

"Partly. It's who I am. I can't handle living as a human; I'm not suited for it. I didn't tell you because I wouldn't want you to worry yourself." Moore held her hands and almost like she was going to show an emotion other than her usual two or three.

"I can't argue anymore. I don't know what it's like living in your shoes. On the business side of things the N.C.R. needs to know if the people that hurt you are going to be an issue for us."

Zaac nodded and smiled more. "Dru and Dorian are not to worry about, and we'll worry about the Institute when we get to the Commonwealth. Other than that, nothing changed."

"After all this shit, I'm really going to clamp down on Oliver and Kimbal about the Institute problem over there. The fact they had the minds of two of the world's biggest assholes known to man on their mainframe is unacceptable! I will make sure we establish some N.C.R. settlements there as soon as possible."

"Believe me; it was no picnic."

Moore stepped to Zaac and kissed him for a few memorable seconds; his kisses were much more sensual. "Get well soon, honey." She patted his leg.

"There's no reason to worry my dear, I'll be fine," Zaac chuckled. "Honest."

Moore looked like she experienced a great weight off her chest. Her smile was fuller. "I wish it was that easy, Zaac. You're a difficult one." She looked to Julie. "Call me when he's ready to come home. The kids miss him." She saluted and left quickly through the door behind her.

Julie stepped to Zaac's bed with her clipboard. "I can see why you love each other, you share so much chemistry and care for your people." She looked down on her feet, musing to herself, "If only I can find someone like her."

"Her?"

Julie's head snapped up, and her cheeks went rosy. "Uh, you know, someone like her… A man, and stuff..." _Idiot_.

"That was an odd thing to say."

"Yes. Could you tell me the details of your vaccinations?"

"Ah, yes. Sure. I'll cover any extra cost."

Julie waved her hand quickly, dismissively. "I'm not in it for the money. I'm just sick of people killing each other."

"That's something I would say to myself time to time," he smiled, "That's a dark path you're going down, though. You'd best be careful."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did. I got myself killed and put in deep shit for overextending myself to save and protect others. It turned out I really couldn't save everyone."

"I can try."

Zaac raised his head back. "I won't stop you from trying. Just exercise caution."

"I will, General," she smiled, still.

"Now then…" Zaac took off the medical brace off his right arm but kept it still on the bed; the damn thing was itching up. Wasn't comfortable with all those straps and screws. "I'll purchase every sample you make, Julie. The N.C.R. may be neutral to the Followers, but I will support them in any way I can. A bit of extra income ought to help out here and there."

Julie shrugged. "Varies really. What virus do you need to sustain yourself?"

"Something called the Progenitor virus. I need strictly measured amounts of it on a weekly basis. I can't have too much or too little otherwise it will poison me or even break my body down." He said sternly, "The problem with the Prototype virus is my life now completely demands a weekly dose. My life depends on it."

Julie was writing down everything Zaac was saying about the viruses she never knew of. She could write as quickly as he could speak. "Do you know your exact measurements?"

Zaac curled his hands. "I'll calculate them later; it's a simple method, I'll send you the full details as soon as I can. There's plenty of ex-Legion settlements I can grow the broc flowers, all I ask is one of your doctors to live there and supervise a small team of farmers to grow the flowers in bulk."

"The virus is in broc flowers?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Lanius had a machine that could extract the virus from them, and it's somewhat straightforward. They get mulched, and the virus secretes from them."

Julie let her arms rest at her sides. "How long have broc flowers contained this virus?"

"Long before the War, the Progenitor virus was discovered in the flower's ancestor the Stairway of the Sun. Back then the virus was a cancerous mutagen, but the nuclear fallout killed the plant and wiped out the harmful bacteria. Like the chicken to the T-Rex, the broc flower is a distant ancestor to the ones destroyed by the War."

"And the virus in them isn't harmful anymore?"

"Correct. It's still good to sedate protohumans like me, and it is healthy for human consumption. Win-win."

Julie wasn't convinced still. "How sure are you of this?"

"Lanius was a protohuman supreme, same shit. Did all the homework, and it was good enough for him, so, therefore, it's good enough for me too. It kept him alive for twenty years at the very least."

"I'll take your word for it," she smiled, "I might consider Arcade Gannon for this vacancy. He's not the best doctor amongst the others, but he's eager in the field of science and such."

"No skin off my nose." He spread his arms out, flexing the broken arm out a bit more. Felt solid to go. Broken elbow healed nicely. "How's he doing anyway?"

"He spends more time reading and teaching our youths."

Zaac sighed. "Scott got me into reading once; I sure miss him… I see some of him in those eyes of his."

"I heard he's distantly related to you. You have a strange history. No offence."

"None taken," he chuckled.

Julie made more notes on her clipboard. She was running out of space and read through them quickly while she spoke, "I'll nominate Arcade to supervise your farmers when you find the location."

"Golden! I'll teach Arcade how to use the machine to extract the Progenitor virus and when I do I'll bring the farmers along. I'll pay them all myself with reasonable interest as my demand will increase, and you will also get some extra in turn as thanks." He chuckled again and sat forward near the edge of the bed. "This time don't say you're not in it for the money because that will break my heart."

"Please spend your money well, Zaac," she said with a small chuckle herself. Everything was just getting a bit better for everyone, apart from Zaac's bank account.

"What good is money if you don't spend it?"

"Fair point. We'll have this done by the end of the week, and you look like you made a full recovery."

"I did, didn't I? It's amazing what time can do to wounds."

"You might be home for dinner if you're lucky." Julie lost her smile and flipped over a few pages of her clipboard to an old sheet. "We still haven't discussed your feelings. I still recommend some therapy."

Zaac rolled his eyes and huffed. "Oh, boy, here we go again..."


	4. Reflective personality

It took some time and a silver tongue to convince Julie Farkas that Zaac didn't need the extra therapy. All the people he loved over the years of his life were all gone, and no extra therapy will change that, so she let him go. She was just going around in circles asking him over and over to express himself anyway. Zaac just wanted to go home.

It was a cold night outside. Everyone excluding the guards was already in their tents for the night. It was raining a bit and left a nasty chill when the wind brushed against Zaac. He felt his chest without the bandages on, and it was great, his wounds were gone completely. It was disappointing that he still had a piece of metal stuck in his heart.

At least he wasn't on life-support anymore, that shit was dragging him down. The armour he wore for two hundred years was falling apart since the scuffle with Drusilla and Dorian. It was in dire need of repair. The reinforced platings over his limbs were fractured, and the armour around the chest was hardly there, leaving a gaping hole where his heart was pierced. Should have kept the bandages on just for warmth.

Zaac gave Julie a bag of caps, a wink and a handshake before he left the Mormon Fort. Zaac pulled up his collars and made a quick right turn into a small alley. There were only a few people on the streets covering their heads from the rain and shuffling along quickly. No one noticed him even despite having a huge N.C.R. logo on his cloak.

Around a little corner, Zaac sat down with his legs crossed and closed his eyes. He started thinking about Hoover Dam. His office. His sanctuary below. Somewhere out of sight. Thinking about where and when he was there.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn't see anything. The faintest dripping was all he could hear, and just like the first time, he knew he was back in his hidey hole just by the elevator. He took a small walk to the portrait he had on the other side and found everything remained untouched the last time he was there with Moore. He flashed his Pip-Boy's light to shine his way through.

It was eerie staring at the portrait of him and Claire. Like an old photograph of two people he barely knew. Zaac didn't have Sarkis anymore, and Claire was just a memory, harsh it may be but she belongs in the past now. He shook his head and went to the elevator and just let it go. The elevator came down to collect him, and before he knew it, he was now in his empty office.

The time was 1:15 am. Time for bed. Zaac walked the empty corridors to the barracks, on the southern side was his private room that he shared with Moore. The desktop was messy, and Moore's clothes were chucked without care at the clothes cabinet. Zaac kicked up her bra and took off his broken armour to set aside quietly at the bottom of the bed.

Moore was undisturbed when Zaac slithered under the sheets; he wasn't tired, but the body heat his wife generated was soothing. The bed at the Mormon Fort was lackluster. Moore had her back to him, so Zaac decided to spoon with her; she noticed and made it obvious. He drifted off after he wrapped her in his arms.

The bright sun lit up the room, waking Zaac up at the lovely time of… 11 am. _Darn it._ He overslept, and Moore was already gone. Most shifts he and Moore share on a daily basis is simple. Zaac gets Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays while Moore gets the latter. Mondays are their only days off. Working 9 am to 5 pm and the 6 pm to midnight. Full days equals full pay.

Today was Wednesday, Moore was covering him in the office. During a peaceful night's sleep, she recommended he take the rest of the week off and come into work on the following Tuesday. In the end, he was recovering from open heart surgery. After having his way almost all the time, he obeyed his wife. Especially after the welcome home treat she saved for him under the sheets...

Zaac didn't put his armour or his Pip-Boy on and went straight to the wardrobe. Inside was a full-size mirror that was almost buried in clothes. Zaac went over to the desk and looked for a short piece of chalk he left in there for some time. After he had found the white chalk, he decided to teleport again.

Zaac vanished for a few minutes and came back with a bit of paper with a symbol jotted on it and a holotape that he left by his Pip-Boy. The xuan paper showed an eye in a circle with a wavy line through it. Something a dead friend written for him to try one day. He went to the closet and used the chalk to copy the symbol on the mirror. Then some words got jumbled in his mouth.

"Surface speak, surface feel, surface think, surface real." Nothing happened. What was missing? _Rub the symbol off numbnuts._ "Oh yeah." He rubbed the symbol off with a spare change of his underwear and touched the mirror.

Zaac hesitated when he pulled back, but when he did his reflection did not. He watched in surprise as his reflection blinked as if it woke from a dirt nap or a trance of sorts. Looking around casually, it dropped its arm to the side and stepped out the mirror as Zaac stepped away with a long face of awe. _Thanks, Pleasant._

"Holy shit…" he said, as the reflection joined him. "It works!" Zaac looked around the room, and nothing changed. He quickly ran to the door and locked it, didn't want anyone disturbing his triumph. It worked! He got the spell right. Almost skipping in joy.

"Wow man." He peered closer at the reflection. "Say something."

The reflection looked back at him. "What do you want me to say?" it said sounding perfect, albeit toneless and empty.

"I dunno… A compliment?" The reflection looked as if it never heard Zaac's suggestion. "What's your name?"

"Zaac."

Zaac laughed suddenly, then clapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry, this is just weirder than I thought," he said through his fingers.

"I weird you out?"

Zaac removed his hand from his mouth and just held it in the air and began to stutter a bit. "You're just so shredded bro, and by GOD you're handsome. Guess that makes me the second best looking in the room." He took a short breath. "Never knew I was that hot but still..."

"I cannot help it."

"Fuck it, doesn't matter," he chuckled. "Let's be serious; there's a reason no one uses reflections anymore since they're volatile and not safe for work. But you weird me in a good way."

"It's not easy talking to yourself. You practically communicated to your thoughts and memories."

"I know right? This isn't good for my health at all." Zaac frowned a bit. "Now listen up reflection, do you know what your prime functions are?"

"Yes."

"Good," Zaac nodded. "I brought you here because I need you to cover me in my absence, I'm planning a trip, and the problem is: I don't know when I'll be back."

"Oh, my."

Zaac shrugged. "Yeah… I want you to get a feel for things around here and do exactly what I would do."

"That isn't a problem. However, I have questions."

"Ask away," Zaac smiled.

"What should I do with the Progenitor virus you receive?"

"Store them in my armoury. No one can be allowed near them."

"Of course. My last question is about your family. What do you expect me to do when they get near me?"

"It's just Mondays to worry about really, but living together does spell some problems. Fake a smile and just stick around long enough for them not to worry or suspect anything strange." Zaac folded his arms. "Everyone knows how involved I get into my work and they'll just think I'm just being my usual self. It's a solid strategy. Can you smile?"

"You want me to try?" Zaac nodded. The reflection and smiled for the first time, and it was cringy. It bared too much of its teeth, and it curled its lips a bit too much.

"It's… best you don't do that around my kids," Zaac said in the nicest way possible. "I don't want them to need therapy too." The reflection stopped smiling. "Keep practising it though."

"Okay."

"Anything else?"

The reflection shrugged lightly. "Not that I know of."

"Good, now the declaration. Do not get involved in any fights if you can't help it. When you go out in public hide your face. And lastly, stay away from people _especially_ Lyannah."

"Only the usual rules."

"Wonderful. I would never ask for a reflection, but since I have no idea when I'm coming back from this trip, I need to make exceptions." Zaac muttered tirelessly, "The worst part is the fact I might not come back at all."

He breathed and still felt a bit worse. He took his Pip-Boy from the nightstand by his double bed and gave it to the reflection. It put it on over the left forearm. "If I'm not back within a year," he continued, "I'm not coming back at all. If that's the case, I want you to carry on my life and make sure my family and people enjoy theirs." He lost his smile. "The people need leadership that cares for them."

"I understand. If worst comes to worse, I'll put more efforts into my emotions to reflect yours."

"That will take years too so hopefully the family will have warmed up to you a bit by then. I don't want them to worry or question me; they should never know I left, with you in the picture they'll be less inclined to do so." Zaac took the holotape and gave it to the reflection. "If the family start to get dangerously suspicious around you or things escalate to the point of people getting hurt or worried I want you to play that holotape to your accusers. It should explain everything. I don't want people to grieve or get hurt, even you."

"This is good," the reflection said with the holotape still in its hand. "We know my functions; I have a failsafe if things go wrong. What should I do if you die?"

Zaac shuddered. "Please don't say that. I only said if I'm not back within a year I'm not coming back at all. I never said I might _die_."

"The survival rate for people who go missing after a year is minuscule. Just exploring all possibilities."

"I just don't want to hear that from you in my voice."

"You think that way. Therefore I do too. Is that all?"

"Should be everything, yeah." Zaac stepped by the reflection that refused to move to pick out a pair of trousers and a shirt to wear. Couldn't go wrong with black and white.

"You still have conflicted feelings."

"I know." Zaac pulled the shirt over his head and patted his legs down.

"There's only way fix them, and that's where you're going, correct?"

Zaac cleared his throat. "Yes."

"I must remind you that your plan will either disappoint you or get jeopardised. Death is also a factor; you must know that."

"Don't tell me the odds," Zaac answered back, keeping his voice low. He shook his head and took a black jacket from the cabinet behind the reflection, one it remembered Zaac found a long time ago in a bin. It was a warm black with a hood. Looked a bit like a chav now. He put on some common boots on after. "I hate leaving things unfinished, and I need to end it one way or another."

"You didn't let go?"

Zaac stood up and hesitated. "I did… I just refuse to let it end like this. Years of emptiness and wonder will just get worse over time."

"I see… Your thoughts are too complex to handle as it is. Will this ease your mind?"

Zaac gave his most unconvincing shrug ever. "I sure hope so."

"Will you be teleporting to the location of your plans?"

"I know I can teleport to them _directly,_ only I have to practice a bit first. As long as they live, I can find them."

"Where will your plans take you?"

"After I practice the fine art of teleporting I'll be ready for them. I'll go to the armoury first. When I get some serious ordinance ready to go, I will finish what I started." He stood straight, closing his eyes and locking his fingers by his chest like he was meditating. "I'm going to planet Pandora, and I'm going to KILL the Horsemen once and for all," he said with closed eyes, "This time _no one_ is going to get in my way." Zaac vanished one last time, leaving the reflection to carry on his duties.


End file.
